


The Phantom of Vesuvia

by shepavellan



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Background Relationships, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friends to Lovers, LET'S FIND OUT, Lovers To Enemies, Magic, Marking, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, how many voice descriptions can i put in one chapter, lucio is the phantom of course, no editing we die like men, the phantom of the opera au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepavellan/pseuds/shepavellan
Summary: I see your truest desires, curious butterfly.  You wish to know more of me, and the magic I could show you.“There’s so little we know of magic even now." Krista said eagerly.  "I want to see more.”And you shall,it said gleefully, a sinful whisper.Come to me, and I will show you all you wish to know.Come to me, and you shall have everything you desire.----The Phantom of the Opera, Vesuvia style.





	1. Think of Me

The town of Vesuvia bubbled with excitement that evening as the afternoon waned, the sun drawing ever nearer to the horizon. For the first time in nearly two decades, a new Court Magician was to be appointed by the Countess herself. The position was one of high honor in the palace, given only to a witch of great skill, and as such, magicians from far and wide had gathered in the fine city, rendering the streets crowded and treacherous. The previous Court Magician had passed many years earlier, and the thought that the position which had remained open for so long - or perhaps more accurately closed - was finally going to be filled only lended to the excitement. The Countess had ultimately decided to choose a new magician for the role just before the next masquerade was to be held, which would be in a month’s time.

The Court Magician was the sole focus of the Masquerade each year, providing extravagant and intricate performances to entertain the palace’s guests. Elymas, the previous Magician, had had a particular talent for illusion, delighting the courtiers with visions of strange creatures and changing the setting of the maze during the annual Hunt held during the event. Little more than a glorified scavenger hunt, but the Countess always found a way to put an exciting twist on the game, and so it had yet to lose it’s allure. That, plus the rumors that a ghost haunted the Hunt each year made the Masquerade an event much looked forward to by all.

The Countess was said to be disguised as a commoner, visiting any magician she found interesting, so as to see their skill unfiltered, and stalls had been spread out among all the streets of the city, many magicians wishing to prove their worth that night to be considered for the position. Others still merely hoped to take advantage of the increased interest in magic that night, selling their wares and doing what they could to earn some credibility and repeat customers. Krista ran one such a stall, her tarot cards spread before her with a simple sign set before her, bearing the lion’s head symbol that hung above her shop. She bore no illusions of being powerful enough to be the Court Magician, only hoping to spread her name, and earn some extra gold in the meantime. It wasn’t as if she could magically create food, after all.

_Wouldn’t that be something though,_ she thought, looking out over the crowded street. She hadn’t gotten many customers so far, with tarot card readers being a dime a dozen that night, and the unfortunate stereotype that all tarot readers were charlatans, pretending at magic and only telling their customers what they wished to hear. And in the case of a real tarot card reader such as herself, often when a patron heard something they _didn’t_ want to hear, they wouldn’t return. _Of all the talents to have,_ she grumbled inwardly. The cards spoke to her however; they always had, and she couldn’t even pretend she didn’t hear. At times they almost seemed to call to her, whispering her name and divulging secrets of the past, present, and future, often whether she wanted to listen or not. And all too frequently, the words were in cryptic, misleading phrases, making the practice an exhausting, uphill battle. 

A shadow passed over her meagre booth, and she looked up to see a woman clad in dark robes, a hooded shawl obscuring most of her face as she peered at Krista. The woman’s eyes seemed to pierce her very soul, and for a moment she sat breathless, feeling vulnerable and exposed. The brief episode passed, the woman’s eyes dimming slightly, and Krista found herself sagging a bit in relief, no longer under intense scrutiny. The woman lingered however. 

“Would you care for a reading, ma’am?” Krista inquired politely. 

The woman tilted her head, considering, then sank gracefully into the seat opposite Krista with a nod. “Yes, thank you. I find myself in a rather...complicated situation. I would appreciate some insight.” 

Krista smiled, pleased that she could offer assistance, however small. “Then you’ve come to the right place.” 

The woman gazed thoughtfully at Krista’s hands as she shuffled the deck. “Have I? Many say that tarot readers are liars, only pretending at magic.” 

Krista repressed a sigh, searching for patience. The woman’s words were not condescending, only curious. “I am aware of such rumors - and unfortunately, they are not unfounded. Tarot reading is sadly easy to plagiarize.” 

The woman tittered from behind her shawl. “You say such things of your own practice? Perhaps I should go elsewhere.” 

Krista’s cheeks colored somewhat. “I do not wish to seem dishonest, and even if I did and I were to tell you those rumors were all lies, it would be easily disproved.” She paused uncertainly for a moment before continuing. “The cards do not always tell us what we want to hear, or even necessarily what we need to hear. They only tell us that which we ask them to, if it is in their power. I can promise nothing more.” 

“An honest answer indeed,” the woman mused. “Very well, you have me convinced. Show me what the cards say.” 

Cards shuffled, Krista pulled out three, and lay them out in front of the enigmatic stranger. “The first card represents the earthly plane, things happening to you in the physical realm,” Krista explained, and flipped the first card over. “The High Priestess.” 

The woman’s eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement for a moment, strikingly familiar, and a suspicion of the woman’s identity suddenly overwhelmed Krista. She pushed the errant thought away, but it pressed at the back of her mind, unable to be entirely ignored. “And what does she have to say for me?” 

Krista took a slow breath, eyes fluttering closed. The High Priestess’ voice came to her like the sound of waves rushing gently up the shore. _You have a plan, one that has been in the making for some time. You keep its secrets closely guarded, and are proceeding with caution, to ensure that everything falls into place._

The voice slipped away with another rushing sound, powerful but gentle. All at once, Krista realized she had been speaking the words aloud - a not infrequent occurrence. The stranger now had her fingers delicately interlaced beneath her veiled chin. “Interesting,” she said quietly. “And correct. Though it doesn’t help me much.” 

“I did warn you,” Krista said before she could think better of it. 

Luckily the woman seemed amused once more, and laughed, a sound that Krista likened to that of a tinkling bell. “Yes, yes you did. Let us continue.” 

“The second card represents the mind, the course of your own thoughts and ideas.” With that, Krista flipped the next card. “Strength, inverted,” she identified. “I’m rather familiar with this card, myself.”

“Oh?” the stranger inquired with a raised brow. 

“It’s offered me much guidance over the years,” Krista explained briefly, not wanting to divert too far from the woman’s reading. Once more, she closed her eyes and let the voice come to her, this time sounding more like a dull sort of roar. _Your confidence is wavering, and self-doubt is veering you from your task. Trust in your intuition and skill, and your journey will be on course once more._

The roar faded, and Krista’s eyes opened to the woman’s surprised gaze. “That...is more insightful than I thought it would be.” She seemed almost embarrassed. “Perhaps I have been letting my insecurities get the better of me.” 

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” Krista offered hesitantly beneath the woman’s sharp stare. “They say there is no worse critic than ourselves.” 

“True,” the woman sighed. “And the advice is sound. On to the last one, then.” 

“The third represents the spiritual realm, offering us messages that we cannot perceive in our own world.” Krista reached for the last card, but paused when her hand hovered over it. A strange energy pulsed through her skin once, and before she even touched the card, somehow she knew what it would be. Turning it over gently, she revealed the final card. 

“...The Devil,” she said quietly. Another card she was quite familiar with, though she chose to keep that information to herself. 

A quiet gasp escaped the stranger, and Krista looked up to see a rather stricken pair of eyes, gazing at the goat’s face on the card. After a few seconds of tense silence, she appeared to steel herself, and looked back to Krista. “What message does he bring?” she asked curtly. Krista’s eyes closed once more. The Devil’s voice came to her, clearer than any other in the deck, somehow always sounding like both a cackle and a growl. _Temptation will soon draw you from your path,_ it crooned into her mind, at once thrilling and unsettling. _Follow it and it will lead you astray._

This one Krista had to repeat aloud, and as she did, for the first time that she could remember, she was uncertain if the message had been for her patron...or for her. Never had the cards done such a thing before, and the feeling was disconcerting. 

The woman was silent for some time, drumming her fingers upon the table. Krista couldn’t blame her, given the last reading. _Cryptic as ever,_ she thought glumly, certain she was about to receive a lecture of some sort, given her growing suspicion of the woman’s identity. Surely royalty wouldn’t accept such a reading with anything but displeasure. 

“Tell me,” the woman said, startling Krista from her reverie. “Do you have talents other than card reading?” 

Thrown off by the abrupt change in subject, Krista briefly struggled for an answer. “I...yes, I have some skill with the elements, and occasionally I even hear the errant thought, but it’s an unreliable endeavor I’m afraid.” 

“I see,” the woman said thoughtfully. “You are quite a gifted.” 

Krista’s cheeks colored once more. “Hardly, my lady, there are quite a few much more talented magicians than I, especially here tonight.” 

“And yet something seems to tell me it is you that I need,” she mused, then nodded with conviction. “I was just told I should trust my intuition, and that has always served me faithfully. It’s settled.” The woman pulled back her hood, revealing her dark violet locks, and instantly many of the people in the street turned gasp and stare. Correct in her suspicion though she was, Krista still found herself in disbelief. Had the Countess just said what she thought she had…? “I would like you to be Magician to the court of Vesuvia. Will you accept the position?” 

Mouth gaping like a fish, Krista felt the sudden weighty gaze of the now silent street, all eyes trained on her as they waited for her answer. “Is...forgive my rudeness your highness, but are you certain? I am only a tarot card reader.” 

The Countess smiled indulgently. “And you have proven yourself to be a true and capable one. Power does not necessarily mean showmanship,” she said wryly. “It is my experience that true power often lies in subtlety, hiding where we would least expect to find it.” 

Krista inclined her head. “Your compliments humble me, my lady. Very well - I accept your offer.” 

The street burst into applause, whoops and hollers as the Countess smiled once more, rising to offer a gentle hand to shake with Krista. She beamed happily at her, aglow with excitement. Nadia then leaned close to be heard over the raucous crowd. “I’ll have an escort sent to fetch you in the morning,” she said quickly, eyeing the people who were beginning to make their way eagerly toward her. Krista nodded enthusiastically, and the Countess turned to address her adoring public. The witch retreated into her humble shop at once, wanting to prepare for the morning and avoid the throng of people that was sure to soon turn its attention to her. Her back pressed to the wooden door as it creaked shut behind her, instantly muffling the loud excitement of the crowd and jovial music that had started to play from somewhere. Her breath was the loudest thing in the small building she called home, and it was heavy from shock and adrenaline. 

She had been chosen to be Court Magician. The court would come to her for advice on all things arcane, and she would be required to offer magical solutions to the Countess when necessary. It was both a great achievement and a high responsibility. For whatever reason, the Countess felt drawn to her, and she could scarcely believe what had just happened. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would be fit for such a title. 

_Truly?_ A voice slithered into her mind, like skin against silk. _Not even in your wildest?_

Unbidden, Krista’s eyes slid shut, a voice from the Arcana speaking to her without prompting, as often happened to her. The voice belonged, as it most commonly did of late, to the Devil. _...Perhaps my very wildest,_ she thought, uncertain if it could hear her. She had responded both out loud and internally in the past, but none of the voices ever seemed to respond to her directly.

Nor did it now. _I am pleased to see your talent finally being recognized,_ the voice said, glowing with pride like the burn from a wildfire. _No other would be fit for the position the way you are._

Wary of the dangers of the Devil and it’s lust for luxury and esteem, Krista opened her eyes and cut the contact. She couldn’t quite describe exactly how she did it, only that it sort of felt like closing a door, but with her mind. Regardless of how often she shut it however, it always seemed to drift back open when she lost focus, and the voices always found her again.

Sometimes, they could be quite helpful. Other times a burden. Such was the nature of magic.

* * *

As promised, the next morning a carriage awaited outside, and a bubbly girl with a mop of red curls came bouncing out, rapping smartly on the door. Krista caught the woman’s eye from the top floor window, giving her a wave to let her know she’d be down in a moment. She grabbed her bag filled with clothes, a few small possessions, and of course her deck, and made her way swiftly downstairs, grabbing the key from its hiding spot beneath a lion’s head statue as she went.

She swung the door open to greet the woman outside, who seemed to be almost vibrating with excitement. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Krista said. “I lost track of time.”

“Oh that’s alright,” the woman replied, backing up to give Krista room to walk out and shut the door. She then stuck her hand out. “I’m Portia, handmaiden to the Countess.” Krista gave her hand a firm shake, finding her skin pleasantly warm. “I’m so pleased to meet you, you were all anyone could talk about last night! Milady says you’re very skilled.”

Krista blushed under the praise. “Well, that’s very kind of her.”

“Magic is so _interesting,_ I can’t wait to see what you can do!” Portia said on a grin. “I hope it isn’t any trouble to ask, but do you think I could get a reading sometime?”

“Oh, of course, I’d be happy to,” Krista replied.

“Thanks! Well, we’d better be on our way, wouldn’t want to keep the Countess waiting.”  
Krista nodded and turned to lock the door behind her, then hesitated. It suddenly occurred to her she had no idea what she might next see her little shop. “Um...will I be allowed to return?” she asked uncertainly.

Portia shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Krista smiled, somewhat reassured, and clambered into the carriage at Portia’s bidding.

* * *

Portia’s warm and welcoming nature put Krista at ease, and she found herself quite fond of the handmaiden rather quickly. They shared a loaf of pumpkin bread Krista had brought with her on the ride to the palace, and soon they were laughing like old friends. She was glad to have made a friend so quickly, knowing no one at the palace besides the Countess, and she could hardly call that even a business-like relationship.

While the ride to the palace itself wasn’t too terribly long, the trek up the stairs most certainly was, and by the time they reached the top, Krista was winded and had to stop to catch her breath. Meanwhile Portia seemed no worse for the wear, and grinned at the small glare sent her way. “You get used to it after a while,” she explained. Krista found that hard to believe, but took her word for it and followed her inside.

They were ushered from the foyer to a large, ornate but comfortable room, where the Countess was playing a plaintive melody on an organ, a far-away look in her eyes. It took her a few moments and Portia clearing her throat before she noticed them. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t hear you come in.” She rose gracefully from her seat and crossed the room to take one of Krista’s hands in both of hers in greeting. “I’m glad you’ve arrived. I’m going to have company soon, courtiers who will be attending the Masquerade in a few weeks. They’re just dying to see what you can do; I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving a demonstration?”

Taken aback, Krista floundered for a moment. “Oh, well, uh...I’m sure I could manage something.”

“Excellent,” she said on a smile, and motioned for Krista to sit, retaking her place at the organ. Portia puttered about the room, adjusting items and dusting things that looked immaculate already. The plaintive tune struck up once again, Nadia’s fingers moving smoothly across the keys.

“May I ask what is on milady’s mind?” Krista asked hesitantly.

Nadia seemed momentarily surprised by the question, but answered without squabble. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit homesick. I haven’t seen my country in many years now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Krista said, genuinely. “I hope you get to return someday.”

Nadia flashed her a bright smile. “That is kind of you.”

The music seemed a bit more cheerful after that, and it wasn’t much longer before the courtiers Nadia had mentioned arrived, announced by a squat man who bustled out of the room as soon as he was able. Everyone seemed to be talking over each other as they greeted Nadia, while Krista stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of how to present herself. The Countess caught her eye eventually, and at once, seemed to change the air in the room with only her will. She straightened her spine, her very presence seemed to suddenly sharpen, and the courtiers all went silent without direction. It was a thing to behold, the power the Countess wielded.

She held one graceful arm out imperiously towards Krista, turning the courtiers’ attention to the nervous witch. “Allow me to introduce to you all the new Court Magician, Lady Krista.”

Krista almost squeaked at the title - no one had ever called her _lady_ before - but was immediately drowned out by the voices of the courtiers as they hurried over to her and flooded her with questions.

“Where did you learn magic?”

“What kind of things can you do?”

“Can you make illusions like the previous magician?”

“Do you have an apprentice?”

“Will you show us something?”

At that last question the voices immediately all died out, evidently all hoping for a demonstration. 

Krista cleared her throat uncomfortably, but nodded. “Yes, I can do something for you.”

The courtiers gave numerous exclamations of excitement and approval - though not one of gratitude she couldn’t help noticing - and each went claim a seat while Krista’s mind scrambled trying to think of what she could do to impress nobility. She considered pulling out her tarot cards, but somehow she didn’t think they would be appreciative of a reading.

 _Power does not necessarily mean showmanship,_ a voice like rushing waves whispered into her mind. _...true power often lies in subtlety, hiding where we would least expect to find it._

 _The High Priestess,_ she thought, remembering the words Nadia had shared with her the previous night. An idea finally formed.

“Your Highness, do you remember when we spoke of your homeland earlier?” Krista asked as the courtiers took their seats.

Nadia’s brow rose in surprised curiosity. “Yes.”

“Do you think you could describe your home for me?” She twisted her fingers together nervously, aware the request was odd.

There was a long pause as all in the room gave her quizzical looks (even Portia, who had given up all pretense on cleaning,) but eventually Nadia relented.

“...Very well.” She takes a slow breath and her eyes take on that far-away look once more. “I lived by the sea, so always I could hear the sound of the waves outside, and the air tasted of salt.” A small smile appeared on her face and her eyes shut fully as she recounted what she remembered of her homeland. “The summers were warm and long, and there was a near constant breeze from the east. When I sat in my room I could hear birds calling from the shore, and could look out over the glistening water for miles…”

Captivated by the Countess’ rich voice, the courtiers’ attention was diverted, and Krista focused on the warm wind flowing into the room from the open window. Uncertainly at first, but with growing confidence, she manipulated the air to bring the subtle scent of sea-salt, and during the brief pauses in Nadia’s recounting, one could almost hear the distant cry of gulls and the gentle rushing of waves along the beach. Krista smiled once more, reminded again of the High Priestess, who had always seemed linked to the ocean in her mind.

One of the courtiers gave a relaxed sigh. “Your homeland sounds like such a beautiful place, Countess. Why, if I close my eyes, I can almost believe I am there, that I can hear the...oh!” They looked to Krista in surprise, delighted realization coming across their features. “Oh, how lovely!”

Another looked between them and Krista in confusion. “What?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”  
Krista glanced at Nadia’s face nervously, worried she had overstepped. The Countess blinked a few times as the scent of the ocean faded away, before a smile slowly stretched her lips. “I believe I do,” she said. “You said last night you had some talents with the elements, yes? Did you...alter the air somehow?”

Krista smiled, relieved. “Yes, your highness. It’s a simple spell, but I’ve always found it to be quite pleasant.”

“Indeed,” she mused. “For a moment I almost believed I was home again.” She still seemed a bit melancholy, but a smile now lingered on her face. “Thank you for that, Krista.”

“Show us more!” One of the nobles piped up exuberantly.

“Now now, let’s not wear out the magician, she’s only just arrived, and I’m sure the journey was tiring.”

The courtiers turned to her with cajoling eyes, hoping to convince her to give them one more performance.

 _You have their attention,_ a voice like a heated caress slid into her thoughts. _Now show them you can keep it._

Krista bit her lip in thought for a moment. “Would my lady be so good as to play another song? I have one more thing I could show you all.”

The nobles exclaimed their delight as Nadia gave a nonchalant shrug, and struck up a cheerful, bouncing sort of tune. Krista held her hands horizontally before her, fingers to palms, and after a slow exhale, began to lift them away from each other. The nobles gasped in astonishment as a figure made of flame began to stretch to life between her hands, twisting and whirling as though it were dancing to the song Nadia played. Krista couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her audience’s rapt faces as the little fire dancer spun and flickered in perfect time. When the notes finally faded away, the flame figure gave a little curtsey and sparked out of existence, and the courtiers’ clapped and laughed jovially. Krista blushed under the attention, but smiled all the same. She caught the Countess’ eye, who gave her a small nod, evidently approving of her performance.

 _One trial down,_ she thought.

* * *

Later than evening, Krista had freshened up, and was being led by Portia to the dining room. Nadia greeted her with a smile when she arrived, and offered her a glass of wine, which Krista accepted. Halfway through raising the glass to her lips, a voice seemed to come from right in front of her.

_Krista…_

Startled, Krista froze and raised her gaze to the wall opposite her, where an elaborate painting of a feast being held by various people with the heads of animals hung. At the table’s center, a man with the head of a goat and blood red eyes sat, somehow seeming more alive and real than the rest of the creatures in the painting. The eyes seemed to stare straight into Krista, and for a crazy moment, she thought it was the goat that had spoken her name.

“...Krista?”

Krista jumped again and turned to see Nadia gazing at her quizzically. Her eyes flicked between the painting and the magician. “Ah. It does look rather like your Devil card, does it not?” Nadia pointed out, misunderstanding the reason for Krista’s staring. “I thought so myself when you did my reading last night.”

Krista hummed noncommittally, refusing to look at the goat’s eyes again.

“I was thinking we should speak about the Masquerade,” Nadia continued.

“Oh, yes, I was hoping we could too,” Krista replied, happy to have something else to focus on.

“Good.” Nadia folded her fingers neatly beneath her chin. “As I’m sure you know, the entire Masquerade is held over the course of a week, with the Hunt being held each night at midnight. Your role, specifically, will be opening the Masquerade each night.” The Countess paused to take a long sip of her wine. “The Court Magician is to give a demonstration of magical feat each evening at dusk to officially begin the festivities - I will provide whatever materials or tools you need to prepare your performances, so long as it is within my power to give. The one thing I ask is that you keep whatever you intend to do a secret.” A sly smile appeared then. “I do so love surprises, and unfortunately, the walls of this castle have ears. If one person finds out, everyone will, and it won’t be much of a show then, will it?”

Krista couldn’t help smiling as well. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. I’ll do my best, your highness.”

“Please, call me Nadia,” the Countess offered kindly.

“As you wish,” she replied. “Thank you, Nadia.”

“You’re quite welcome, Krista.”

The magician’s eyes flicked up to the painting once more, half expecting to hear her name on a hiss once more. But it merely hung there, silent and unsettling, but harmless.

She only wished she believed it would stay that way.

* * *

_Krista…_

Krista tossed her head in her sleep, visions of flames dancing behind her eyelids.

_Krista…_

She whimpered in fright as the flames crawled up her arms. In the distance, she could hear loud booms, like the footsteps of a giant.

_Come to me…_

The flames fizzled away, and something gripped her by the throat, yanking her swiftly through hallways and corridors, rushing her through them too fast for her to see. The pressure disappeared abruptly, and she fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her throat. When she looked up, she saw she was at a dead end. And hanging at the end of the hallway was the painting of the goat headed man, his eyes staring straight into her core.

_I have a surprise for you._

She woke with a cry, fingers clawing at her throat, sucking in air despite never having lost any to begin with. Shaking, Krista swung her feet over the side of the bed and summoned an orb of light to her palm, bathing the room in a soft glow. Trembling fingers pulled on the silk robe Nadia had gifted her.

It was two weeks until the Masquerade, and despite her best efforts, Krista had yet to think of an appropriate display for the event. She was no illusionist, like Elymas had been, and it wasn’t as if she could do a tarot reading for the whole of Vesuvia. She was plagued by a feeling of inadequacy, and had begun to fear that Nadia really had chosen wrong. She suspected her worries were the cause of her recent nightmares, though this had certainly been the worst, and the most odd.

The soft sound of whispers drifted to Krista’s ear, and she turned her head curiously toward the door. She could hear the faint cadence of voices, like someone was having a hushed conversation just outside her room. She crossed the room and pulled the wooden door open, poking her head out to see who was there (and perhaps ask them to speak elsewhere.)

Her eyes met with only the empty hallway.

Confused, Krista peered down both directions of the corridor, wondering if she’d imagined the noise, when she heard the sound again, from her left. Perhaps around the corner? Krista summoned the orb to her palm once more from where she’d left it hovering in her quarters, and padded quietly down the hall, one arm clutched around her waist. She finally reached the end and turned the corner, only to once again find nothing.

And once again she heard the whispers from further away, and the unmistakable trill of a laugh.

Krista paused, aware now she was being led by...something. Primal prey instincts told her to flee back to the relative safety of her room and wait for the dawn. But there was another part of her that Krista found she couldn’t quite identify, something that thrilled at the idea of following the unknown force calling to her, wanting to unravel the mystery. The thought of giving in to whatever this thing wanted, or at least finding out what it was set her heart to racing, and against all sense, she found her feet leading her further into the palace. Following.

The whispers were always just far enough away that she couldn’t quite make them out, yet close enough that her ears strained to catch the shape of a word, or the tone of a voice. Occasionally she would hear the soft laugh again, the only thing truly distinctive, and she couldn’t help thinking it sounded somehow smug. Victorious. _Gloating._

At one point she became abruptly aware that she was being led down the same path she’d been forcibly pulled down in her nightmare, and a new dose of fear sent ice shooting down her limbs, nearly making her turn back. But that dark part of herself surged forward once more, telling her to embrace her fear, and she continued on despite herself.

She finally came to what would be the last turn, and paused to take a steadying breath. If the dream proved to be prophetic, she would come to a dead end, and that unsettling painting would somehow be there. What would become of her once she saw it she didn’t know, but she was determined to find out, having come this far. The words echoed in her mind once more, _I have a surprise for you._ She swallowed reflexively, and turned the corner.

And found a door.

Bemused, Krista blinked at the door for a moment, not having anticipated this, but strode forward and opened it anyway, before she could think too hard about it. The room was in complete darkness, not a torch or window in sight, so Krista cast her orb to the top of the room. It dimmed as it crossed the threshold, and while it didn’t go out, Krista couldn’t brighten it despite her best efforts. The flickering wisp cast the room in an eerie glow, but allowed her to finally see what lay inside. Boxes were piled high in places, and tables and desks sat haphazardly about the space, various objects and knick-knacks strewn on them. There were books, a crystal ball, statuettes, bolts of cloth, and a number of other strange things pushed close together around her, assumedly to save on space due to the sheer amount of items in the room. Krista stepped carefully around the surfaces and piles, some of which were set rather precariously. She paused in surprise when she noticed a staff leaning against one of the desks, recognizing it as the previous Court Magician’s. There were various runes and stones engraved and embedded into it, now devoid of magic without Elymas there to power it. Tied to them as it was, only their magic could have made any of the runes or crystals activate - now, it was little more than a pretty carving. Still, having belonged to someone so powerful and respected, Krista couldn’t help feeling it shouldn’t be left in what appeared to be a storage room, and resolved to speak to Nadia about it the following day.

_Krista…_

Krista jumped and almost yelped, hand flying to her throat as she whirled to look behind her. The voice had been _right next to her ear._ The faint trill of laughter slithered through the air once more, and she bristled in annoyance, not liking the feeling of being toyed with. She had the distinct feeling she was being taunted for amusement.

Unbidden, the orb drifted from above to hover above a crate that was now in front of her due to her spin, glowing a bit brighter as though to gather her attention. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but approached the wooden box, peering over the edge to see...weird large sticks.

Baffled and irritated, she huffed, and almost snarled when she caught that damnable laughter once more. She reached in to pick up one of the odd sticks and gasped when a vision burst into her mind’s eye. Bursts of color exploded before a night sky, wild and beautiful. She heard the loud booms from her dream as they arced through darkness, and all at once, the vision stopped, dropping her unceremoniously back into reality. Breathing hard Krista yanked her hand back from the crate, taking and retreated a step.

“This...this is what you wanted to show me?” she spoke uncertainly into the air, her voice sounding small and odd in the gloom. She received no answer, though the orb seemed to glow a bit brighter, as though beckoning her back.

Why was she supposed to see this? And what was she supposed to do with such an odd device? She could sense faint magic emanating from them, telling her that she could likely activate them somehow and cause the brilliant bursts of light that she had seen in her vision, but why -

The answer came to her at once and she felt a bit silly for not having immediately realized what this was. The Masquerade. She was being given a gift.

A surprise.

 _“Oh,”_ she couldn’t help saying aloud, and a smug hum seemed to fill the air, knowing she would accept it’s offer.

* * *

Over the next several days, Krista had intermittent dreams about the magic items she’d found in the strange room and then sequestered away to her quarters. She’d attempted to find the room the next morning so she could speak to Nadia about the staff, but was unable to locate it, despite remembering the path she’d taken the night before precisely. The hall that contained the door seemed not to exist, and no amount of physical or magical searching could locate it. The situation was unnerving to say the least, but the puzzle was a surprisingly stimulating distraction.

She could often remember less than half of what she saw in the night, as is the way of dreams, but she gathered she was being shown how to use the artifacts she’d been given, and would sometimes awaken feeling a strange power thrumming in her veins with no memory of why. Eventually she remembered enough snippets and visions that she was certain she could operate them on her own, and informed the Countess she would need access to a high and open part of the castle, and for the area to be cleared of workers. She agreed, though raised a suspicious brow when Krista also requested that several large tubs of water be kept on hand in case of a fire. Nevertheless, she seemed intrigued and told Krista she was excited to see what she had planned.

The young witch couldn’t agree more.

* * *

Krista took in a deep slow breath, the thick evening air cooled from a recent rain helping to calm her strained nerves, if not by much. The day had finally arrived and despite her earlier confidence, the thought of going in front of all of Vesuvia, and having all their attention placed on her was overwhelming. She waited in an alcove, a servant standing a few feet away to tell her when to step into the open.

The Countess and Portia stood on a balcony before the courtyard, to officially welcome the town who had gathered to begin the festivities. The Countess was saying something about celebrating the spirits of both her late husband and Elymas, rather than mourning them. Given that the previous Masquerade had been skipped out of respect, it was likely a welcome message to the town. Krista couldn’t quite bring herself to listen, out of place as she felt and nervous as she was.

It had occurred to her only three days before the Masquerade that she hadn’t thought once of what she was going to wear, preoccupied by the magical aspects of her position as she was. She had come to Portia in a near panic, hoping the young woman she was fast becoming a friend with would have an answer. Krista wasn’t one to pay terribly much attention to fashion in general, but even she knew the importance of appearance in a case such as this and didn’t have anything even approaching appropriate wear for a ball. Portia had tittered at her and told her that the Countess had taken the liberty of preparing a few gowns for her when she’d arrived, suspecting as much would happen. Krista had slumped in relief on Portia’s shoulders, who’d laughed again, but given her an affectionate squeeze.

Afterwards she’d taken Krista to choose which to wear for the first night, and she’d deliberated briefly before choosing one with a begrudging sort of amusement. The dress and mask portrayed rather how she felt at the moment - on display for all to see. The white cloth mask was elegant and regal, swirling patterns embroidered into the base of it, and a delicate butterfly wing made of lace was set upon one side, the top wing rising a few inches above her hairline and the bottom wing brushing her jawline. Ribbons and bended wire arched away from the wing and over her brow, giving it a whimsical ethereal appearance. The butterfly motif continued with the dress, one sleeve a small shoulder cap, the other long and sheer, with intricate filigree patterns of butterflies stitched into it. It came to a dainty point on the back of her hand. A boned corset made the top of her dress, and fluttering skirts came to just brush the floor beneath her, more butterfly patterns stitched in. When she shifted, the layered skirts would flutter, and it almost looked like the butterflies were alive. Her hair fell loosely down her back in dark brown ringlets.

The dress must have cost a fortune - not to mention the other gowns she would be wearing over the course of the week - and she had tried to convince Nadia to allow her to pay her back somehow, or that she should perhaps find a pre-made dress and let the Countess keep the lovely gowns for someone who could actually afford them. But Nadia had insisted, and told Krista she would hear no more of her trying to turn away the gifts. Then informed her that as Court Magician it would hardly be the last time she received expensive finery and Krista had squirmed at the thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it all, but she wasn’t accustomed to simply being _given_ things, used to working to earn her keep and take care of herself. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

What consumed her thoughts currently however, was the performance she was about to give to _all of Vesuvia._ Gods.

 _Have faith in yourself,_ a deep comforting rumble in her mind said, and Krista smiled at the familiar voice of Strength. _Have faith and all will be well._

She took another calming breath, steadying herself.

The servant turned towards Krista and ushered her forward. “It is nearly time, madam.”

Krista gave a short nod, pausing at the entrance of the alcove, and waiting until the servant gave her a final wave forward, before striding forward and toward the balcony, approaching Nadia and Portia who turned to greet her.

“...the new Court Magician, Lady Krista!” Nadia was saying when Krista finally turned her full attention to the situation at hand. The crowd below erupted into excited applause, and she managed to smile and wave the way Nadia had shown her to while she waited for them to quiet a bit. At last they settled, and Krista steeled herself. It was showtime.

“Good evening to you all,” she began, and could have wept with relief that her voice didn’t crack. “I am both proud and honored to serve the palace as the court’s magician. I hope to be of use to the Countess with my knowledge of the arcane, and to provide this city with protection and guidance.” Cheers erupted once more, and her smile was genuine then, glad they seemed accepting thus far. The cheers died down again, and Krista continued. “As the Countess said, tonight is a celebration, in memory of those we have lost, and with happiness for those we have with us. With that in mind, I give you a sight I’m certain we will all mutually marvel at, knowing somewhere our loved ones gaze on with delight as well.” A final uproarious cheer from the ground, and Krista turned from the crowd to face the palace, noting Nadia and Portia turning to do the same. Krista closed her eyes, and reached out with her magic, feeling for the artifacts she had set carefully hours before, agonizing over the details for so long she’d nearly been late. Feeling their magic pulsing against hers, ready to activate at her command, Krista twisted the magic around them until a spark finally caught, then pulled back, opening her eyes and turning her gaze to the night sky.

A moment passed, then a streak of light shot into the air with a whistle, before exploding into bursts of color and glitter. The crowd gasped and applauded, exuberant shouts and exclamations erupting with each explosion in the sky, thunderous booms coming shortly after. The spectacle continued for a short time, before the final stage Krista had set went off, many of the artifacts racing into the sky as one, bursting in a final glorious cacophony, before fading away.

Raucous applause and cries of jubilation went up from the crowd as Krista turned and bowed, signaling the official beginning of the Masquerade. The band struck up a merry tune, and the crowd began to mingle, some immediately taking to dancing. Others to drinking.

 _“Krista!”_ Nadia gasped as she neared. Krista turned to face her fully. “That was marvelous - I’ve never seen anything like it! However did you do such a thing?”

Krista grinned, feeling surprisingly playful. “Countess, you should know a magician never reveals her secrets."

* * *

The festivities had begun at sundown, and it was now nearing midnight. Somewhere outside, Nadia was calling the Hunt to begin, making another speech to the crowd of townspeople. Krista’s part to play was done for the night however, to her relief. After her performance Nadia had taken her by the arm and led her from nobleman to courtier to politician, flitting around rather like the creature she was emulating. At long last the Countess had had to leave to prepare to give her speech, and Krista had managed to drift back into the palace, exhausted and worn. She wandered about the abandoned hallways, her footsteps echoing in back to her from the high ceilings. She came to the foot of a darkened stairway, surprised to see two dogs lounging at the bottom, perking up when she came near.

Krista paused as the dogs stood and trotted over to her, sniffing about her person, then sitting before her and staring her straight in the eye. Having the oddest feeling that she was being judged, Krista stood to her full height and gazed back, not giving an inch. The dogs eventually glanced away, a sign of submission, and she relaxed her shoulders. An odd exchange, but she felt gratified nonetheless.

Krista moved to pass the stairway, when she heard the voice again.

_Krista…_

She froze and looked up the darkened stairs, straining to catch a figure, a form, anything. But she saw only blackness. The dogs trotted up a few steps and turned back to her, as if waiting for her to follow. Without really thinking, Krista was moving to do just that when yet another voice called her name.

“Krista…?” Portia’s voice called from around a nearby corner.

Krista turned to glance back where Portia was calling from, and when she turned back the dogs were trotting up the stairs again. When she finally rounded the corner they were out of sight.

“There you are!’ Portia exclaimed as she saw Krista. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing hiding away in here?”

“I just needed a moment away - it’s a bit overwhelming, all those people.”

“Oh I understand,” Portia replied, folding her hands neatly. “And Gods know you’ve been under some stress lately. How about we sneak you back to your rooms for some rest?”

Krista tossed a final glance up the darkened stairway, a small part of her wishing sadly that she could explore. “Yes...that sounds lovely.”

Portia linked her arm through hers and began leading her through the myraid of halls. “What you did out there was incredible, by the way. How did you come to learn such magic?”

Krista was quiet for a long moment, the past weeks of strange phenomenons flitting through her mind. “Portia...can you keep a secret?”

A sly grin formed on the maid’s mouth. “I know more secrets about this place and the people in it than you’d probably believe. And I’ve never told a single soul any of them. You can trust me.”

Krista pondered a moment gathering her thoughts. “When a magician does a tarot reading - a true one anyway - the voice of the arcane comes to them, delivering whatever message they may have. I’ve heard the voices sound different to everyone. But for me…” Krista hesitated, glancing down. “...They speak to me always. As far back as I can remember they’ve whispered to me, guided me. I don’t know where I would be without them.”

“That’s incredible!” Portia exclaimed. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Krista admitted. “Since just before I met the Countess, one particular voice has guided me most. One I...did not expect.”

“Which one?” Portia pressed.

“The Devil,” Krista answered quietly, and winced at Portia’s wide eyes. “It’s not as terrible as it sounds,” she quickly assured. “The Devil doesn’t necessarily mean evil, as many people think it does. Often it is about not giving into temptation, or letting go of inhibitions. I’ve always seen it as a sign of change, personally.” Portia looked more curious than concerned, so Krista continued. “And that would make sense wouldn’t it? My life has turned on its head. I don’t even feel like the same person I was when I left my shop! And I think it’s been...leading me, showing me the way to navigate all this without losing who I am. Teaching me.”

They were silent for a long time, lost in thought. “I’ve never heard of something like that before,” Portia finally mused aloud. “It must be so much to deal with...you look quite pale you know. Are you alright?”

Krista nodded, not entirely trusting her voice after revealing so much.

“And your fingers are freezing,” Portia continued, gripping her palms as they neared Krista’s rooms.

“I…” a choked quality overtook Krista’s tone. “I’m afraid, Portia. A month ago I was no one. And now it feels like there always eyes on me, no matter where I go…I'm never alone.”

Portia gave her hands a squeeze. “You need a good rest. Get some sleep. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Krista gave her a shaky smile, thanked her when Portia opened the door for her, and bid her goodnight, stepping into the quiet of her room. Simply being in her own space, even borrowed as it was, instantly put her at ease, and she sank into a chair before her vanity, setting the delicate mask on the wooden surface, tracing a finger over the lace patterns. It really was a lovely mask, even if she did feel out of place entirely in it.

A knock came at her door after a few minutes, startling her from her reverie. _So much for some solitude,_ she groused inwardly. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and a face Krista had not seen in years popped into view.

“I know it’s late, but I hoped you wouldn’t mind a visit from an old friend.”

 _“Asra,”_ Krista breathed, rising as the white haired magician fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. They came together to embrace at once. “It’s been ages! What in creation are you doing here?”

“I’d hoped to meet some other magicians with the masquerade coming up,” he said as they parted. “Maybe see some old friends I met here once some time ago. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw you on that balcony.”

Krista flushed a bit, laughing. “Trust me, I was just as bewildered to be up there. I keep expecting wake up.”

Asra smiled gently. “I do hope this isn’t a dream. It’s been nearly a decade since we last spoke. When did you come to Vesuvia?”

“A few years ago. I got some advice from...from a friend, and decided to make a change.” She kept just who the friend was to herself.

“I’m glad you did,” he said with a grin. Asra opened his mouth to continue, but Krista’s stomach abruptly growled loudly and she blushed furiously when he laughed.

“I was too nervous to eat today and was too busy being shepherded between noblemen at the party to get any food,” she mumbled.

“I saw. I’d hoped to get a chance to talk to you but you were never in one place for very long.” She rolled her eyes remembering being tugged around and Asra chuckled again. “I’ll tell you what, how about I go get us some food and we can meet in the courtyard to catch up. Everyone will be in the gardens and maze for the Hunt by now, so we shouldn’t be bothered.”

A low growl of warning floated through the air, stiffening Krista’s spine. By the unchanged expression on Asra’s face, she knew he hadn’t heard it. “Oh, I...I don’t know, I’m awfully tired.”

“Yes, but you also haven't eaten, and I’m not going to let you go hungry when there’s some of the palace chef’s finest work out there.” The low rumble intensified. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I…” Her stomach growled again. “Um. Okay?”

“Good,” Asra said with a smile. The low growl went disturbingly silent. "Meet me in the courtyard in...hmm, ten minutes?” She gave him a shaky smile and a nod. Asra grinned and gave her another quick hug before leaving the room.

The cold silence continued.

A sense of dread was welling up in Krista. Somehow she knew something awful was coming, and panic quickly sprang to life in her, spurring her legs to hurry to the door and get out. Her fingers had just brushed the handle when the voice roared to life in her mind, like a forest fire burning out of control.

_**YOU DARE IGNORE MY INSTRUCTION?!**_

Krista froze, shaking at the rage held in the Devil’s voice. _I teach you the power to light the night sky, show you magic never seen by another, practically **give** you your title, and at my first request of you, you ingore me?!_

Krista closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. The warning had been clear, it was true, and she’d agreed to meet Asra anyway. “I...I am sorry. I have not seen my friend in so long, my resolve weakened. I gave into temptation.” Her head bowed in shame. “I will listen to what you tell me - you’ve always guided me safely. Please, forgive me.”

Her heart pounded in the following quiet. _Please talk to me,_ she couldn’t help thinking. A direct response, getting to actually speak to her trusted advisors...she wanted nothing else.

The voice returned at last with a sweet purr. _My pet,_ it crooned, _of course I forgive you._ Krista gasped aloud, receiving a chuckle in response. _I see your truest desires, curious butterfly. You wish to know more of me, and the magic I could show you._

“Yes,” Krista agreed eagerly. “There’s so little we know of magic even now. I want to see more.”

 _And you shall,_ it said gleefully, a sinful whisper. _Come to me, and I will show you all you wish to know._

She felt a...a pull of some sort, and turned her gaze to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. The reflection clouded, the surface of the mirror seeming to swirl. Krista’s mind fogged, and her feet moved slowly forward of their own volition. Feeling odd and almost drowsy, she drifted ever closer.

_Come to me and you shall have everything you desire._

Krista reached forward, fingers brushing what should have been cool metal. Instead the mirror rippled under her touch like water. Heart racing, she pushed forward, arm going straight through.

_Krista…_

A smooth hand with overheated skin gripped her own from the other side, and pulled her through.

_Come to me._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PHAAAAAAAAAANTOM OF THE OPERA IS THEEEEEEEERE~
> 
> This is so much fun to write omg. I hope you guys like this cause I am not stopping.


	2. The Music of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I don’t fuckin know how fancy ball gowns and underclothes work so have my best guess when they come off.
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh did I say clothes are coming off_

Krista stumbled forward into a hallway, dizzy and unbalanced. She tripped over to a wall, hands fumbling for purchase as the world spun and her eyes rolled. The hall seemed to flicker between dark and light, paintings on the walls swirling and flashing from torn and ancient to fresh and new. She whimpered in the back of her throat, shutting her eyes tight.

 _Don’t,_ the voice slid into her ear, more solid and real than it had ever been. Than anything else was now. _Let it wash over you, and it will be easier. The confusion will fade. Breathe._

She clenched her jaw and opened her eyes once more, taking in a gasping breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. As she did, the spinning did indeed begin to slow, and the disjointed images faded, leaving the walls illuminated by the light of the overhead lanterns, dimmed for the evening. Though the world now appeared stable, Krista quickly found that if she stared at one spot for very long it would distort again, and she felt as though she were attempting to see two different images at once. She didn’t allow her eyes to linger then.

The hall stretched far before her, paintings lining the walls, each bearing an image of the Countess’ late husband, in various states of regal poise. The faces each bore the same confident grin, eyes holding a cruel mirth. Krista felt watched, but didn’t think for a moment the paintings were the reason why.

A glance behind showed another mirror, flush to the wall, though not fogged and out of focus like hers had been. She could see her reflection, turned at the waist to see...and behind her, stood a tall figure with a mask obscuring the top half of his face.

Krista gasped and turned back, half-expecting to see no one before her, but there he stood, grin revealed beneath the edge of the strange white mask. Gold horns curled from the top back behind the man’s head, the bottom came to two sharp points beneath his cheekbones. Cold grey eyes peered at her from behind the unsettling guise, and power practically _dripped_ from him. Krista could feel the odd magic pushing insistently against her own, like it was trying to go right through her. Her knees buckled, nearly submitting, but she forced her feet to part solidly beneath her and rose her chin, refusing to be cowed.

The man laughed, his voice rich and deep. “That’s a good girl,” he purred at her, and reached forward to take a curl of her hair between his fingers. She shivered as his voice echoed in her mind, still hazy, though she found herself growing used to the feeling. He dropped the lock of hair, instead flipping his palm upward and extending it toward her in offering. “Come, my pet. I have much to show you.”

Krista eyed the proffered appendage, recognizing the gleaming gold metal that replaced skin, and flicked her eyes up to the golden hair visible above his mask. His cocky grin grew.

“A handsome form, is it not?” he chuckled.

That could mean many things, Krista knew. It was possible her Devil card had chosen to take the guise of the late Count, or that he and the Count had somehow melded; she’d heard older magicians speak in whispers that it was possible to become one with the Arcana if one had sufficient will, though she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to. In any case, she knew she was no longer in her own realm - this was _his,_ and he’d chosen to invite her into it. And to show her more, if she’d let him.

Hesitantly, she reached forward and gripped the metal fingers lightly, his hand curling about hers.

“Good,” he said again.

* * *

_She’s eight years old, and her mother is kneeling before her, a smile on her lips, holding out a deck of cards. She’s saying something, but the words have been lost to years gone by. Krista takes the cards from her mother with eager fingers, knowing her mother uses them often, wanting to be like her._

_Her mother shows her how to shuffle them properly, without bending them; pulls out a few and tells her their basic meanings. Krista likes the strength card, with the pretty lion. She reaches and pulls out another to ask her mother what it means. She pulls out one with a goat’s head on it._

_**Krista…** _

_She drops the card in fright._

* * *

Krista’s mind was pulled unbidden through childhood and adolescent memories. She felt somewhat as though she was being dragged through water as she was simultaneously tugged along by the hand, the man’s form before her sliding in and out of focus as her mind continued to reel.

She remembered having nightmares of the cards whispering to her after that first day, and of her mother telling her she had a gift. Krista hadn’t felt particularly gifted, and in a fit of pique once, she’d yelled that she was cursed instead. But she had grown, and the voices had stayed, and she’d grown accustomed to their presence. At first she wasn’t always able to decipher much of what they said, most of it just the impressions she felt from them, like the roaring of Strength or gentle waves of The High Priestess. But as she grew, the messages became clearer, and she came to trust their advice.

The Devil hadn’t spoken her name again until her arrival in the palace, to the point where Krista had nearly convinced herself she’d imagined it. _Clearly,_ she thought as her gaze skittered nervously to the horns curling back over his hair. _I did not._

The metal fingers coiled around hers tightened their grip and tugged her forward when she slowed. They dug into her skin and made her wince, but she dutifully increased her speed and continued forward. 

“I am eager to teach you more,” he said without turning, and Krista shivered at the way his voice seemed to reverberate through the air, penetrating her thoughts effortlessly. “Your magic has always drawn me to you, Krista. It’s why I chose you.”

“Chose me?” she inquired breathlessly.

She thought she may have seen him grin, but it was hard to tell from her angle. “All in good time.”

The magic that streamed from him washed over Krista, engulfing her, overpowering her senses. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as she breathed it in. The intensity drew a whimper from her throat, and an unmistakable chuckle from her master.

Unthinkingly, Krista’s head turned to glance back the way they’d come, a small, fearful voice urging her to run - when sharp metal fingers gripped her jaw and forced her gaze back, where his horned visage loomed over her, steel grey eyes boring coldly into her from behind his mask. “You will not turn from me this night,” he commanded, tone unyielding as stone. “Do I make myself clear?”

Krista trembled beneath the heated metal, nearly enough to burn her in his tight grip. His voice sank into her mind, encompassing her thoughts; she didn’t think she could have resisted if she tried. “Yes,” she managed shakily.

He reached up to caress her jaw, purring a soft praise to her. She gasped at the sensation, alarming heat suffusing her. She stumbled when he abruptly turned and gripped her wrist with the metal claws once more, near dragging her behind him. 

Dizzy, overwhelmed, and _captivated,_ Krista allowed herself to be drawn further and further into the labyrinth of darkened hallways, until he finally came to a stop before a door. He glanced over his shoulder once at her and Krista shiered as their gazes locked briefly. A grin stretched his lips once more before her turned back around, and pressed a hand to the door. It swung open easily, and he pulled Krista inside behind him.

The heavy door swung to a close on its own as Krista’s wrist was at last released, and she took in the dim room. The only light came from behind thick curtains covering a window, letting in only the smallest slivers of moonlight. Shadows encompassed most all else, though Krista had the strangest sense that the room was old and long forgotten. It reminded her starkly of the storage room she’d been unable to relocate, and she realized there was an undercurrent of magic in the air, just as there had been then. It had somehow escaped her notice before.

Warm breath rushed over her cheek from behind and Krista stiffened. “Walk forward,” his voice ghosted along her ear. How he’d gotten around her she wasn’t sure. The darkness obscured too much. Despite being unsure of her footing, she obligingly stepped forward until he bade her to stop. One of the beams of moonlight lit upon a stone fireplace, perhaps a foot away from her then. In what little she could make out, it looked like the stone was old, cracked, and covered in dust, or -

“Light it.”

Flames shot from her fingertips almost before he’d finished speaking, instantly setting the logs inside ablaze. It was much quicker than she’d expected, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden change in lighting for a moment. When she blinked them back open, the stone had given way to marble, and Krista wondered if it had been so deeply covered in powder she’d misidentified it. Her gaze swept the room to see fine fabrics and furs, a gleaming suit of armor, a marble writing desk, all looking well cared for and fastidiously cleaned. Gleaming reds and dark golds gave the room an opulent, gilded feeling, and the flickering light of the fire provided a warm, dreamy glow.

A portrait overtook a large portion of one wall, and Krista found herself gazing up at the visage of Count Lucio, hyper-aware of the presence behind her, near looming over her. She could still feel his breath along her neck, and she shuddered when cool metal claws slid along her jaw, turning her to face him. “I have brought you here for a reason, pet.”

She swallowed nervously. “You said you’d...chosen me?”

He smiled, eyes gleaming behind the mask. “Do you remember the first time I spoke to you?”

She recalled his voice and the smooth feeling of the card in her fingers with perfect clarity. “Yes.”

“I felt your magic that day,” he said, his voice smooth and fluid. Hypnotizing. “There was a strength in you I had never sensed in another, at such a young age. You were meant for the cards, Krista, and I was meant to guide you.”

Both of his hands reached out to her, palms up, and Krista obediently rested her own in them. She had not touched his skin since he had pulled her through the mirror, and she gasped aloud at the feverish sensation. The heat was nearly enough to burn her. “I intend to make you a vessel for magic, Krista. Through you, the magic I weave will become part of the world.” She shivered uncontrollably as his fingertips slid up her inner arms, and though she wanted to close her eyes against the sensation, she found herself unable to look away. An imperious smirk stretched his mouth, and the weight of his gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul. She wouldn’t have been surprised to discover he could hear her every thought. “You only have to let me in, and we will do things no one has ever dreamed possible.”

“How?” Krista breathed unsteadily.

His hands continued their slow trek up her arms to her shoulders. “Reach out with your magic,” he instructed, the rich cadence of his voice soothing to her spinning mind. “Feel the energies around you - don’t shy away from them, let them flow through you.” Krista let the essence of her magic begin to creep further away from herself, uncertainly at first, then with growing boldness as she continued to have control over it. She began to sense other people in the castle, and creatures outside of it. The night itself was _alive_ with energy, and all of it seemed eager to merge with her magic. Her instinct was to fight it away, too many thoughts and feelings and sensations to handle, but she made herself relax, let her magic extend farther than it ever had before.

“Allow yourself to _drown._ ”

Too many minds and lives and emotions began to pile up inside of her, overwhelming her...and then all at once she felt his magic too, pushing at her own, almost seeming to grasp it briefly. There was an odd feeling in her mind, just on the edge of painful, and then his presence vanished. A sharp breath of air escaped her as the sensations receded, without fully retreating from her. She was still keenly aware of them all, but somehow they no longer overpowered her senses. Instead, she felt more in control then she ever had. The nature of her magic was different in a way she couldn’t quite describe, like someone reshaped it just slightly.

Slowly, Krista came back to herself, refocusing on his face before her, and becoming aware that she trembling. He was _beaming_ at her, and the sight was more stirring than she would have expected. She gave him a shaky smile in return as feeling returned to her limbs, her mind growing accustomed to the foreign touch of her own magic.

“Very good, pet,” he cooed at her, and she felt a swell of joy that she had pleased him so. “But there is yet more to show you.”

She nearly protested that she didn’t think she’d be able to take more, but the feel of his overheated fingers sliding from her shoulder across her collarbone silenced her. Heat blossomed in her, and her breath shuddered to a halt as his hand ghosted up her throat to her jaw. The touch was light, barely there, but at the gentlest pressure she turned her face for him, towards the more shadowed parts of the room, and followed as he stepped backward into them. His fingers slid away from her chin then, and she couldn’t help leaning forward slightly to extend the contact. He chuckled darkly at her and the sound only increased the warmth in her belly.

“I want your thoughts to be filled with me, Krista,” he commanded, and she heard the words echo in her mind just as surely as she heard them aloud. “Your title, your responsibilities, your friends - none of that exists in here. Here, you are _mine,_ and nothing more.” He reached forward to brush a lock of curled hair behind her ear, and she whimpered when their skin met. “Do you understand?”

She nodded fervently, helplessly.

“Close your eyes,” his silky voice commanded. “Reach out with your other senses.” Krista’s eyes obediently slipped shut. “Feel the magic surround you.” As he spoke, he circled Krista, coming to a stop behind her. One hand slowly rose to clasp her throat, each long finger closing around her bared neck one by one. His grip was not enough to impede her breathing, but it was nonetheless unyielding. It was _possessive._ “Open your mind to me,” he crooned into her ear, and Krista felt his presence again, at the fringes of her consciousness. It quickly overtook her senses however, with the force of a wildfire. His magic was powerful and consuming, and she shrunk away in fright of being overwhelmed. The fingers around her throat gently squeezed for a moment and she took a gasping breath of air, not realizing she’d stopped breathing altogether. “Don’t fight it pet,” his voice continued to gently coax her. “Let the darkness I know is in you blossom. It is a part of you.” The tips of the claws on his metal hand scratched ever so slightly up her arm, and she shuddered. “You can no more deny it than you can deny me.”

Krista took a slow breath, steeling herself, and let the walls of her mind slowly fall once more, cautiously opening herself to him. Once more, his magic instantly engulfed her own, but rather than shield herself from him, Krista forced the walls of her mind open wide.

Her head fell back as his magic latched on her own voraciously, but rather than devour her whole as she had feared, they seemed to intertwine, _merge,_ and once again she felt the very nature of herself changing, her magic taking a sharper edge from being so intimately bonded with his own. She felt raw, dizzy, stupefied, and…

_Powerful._

Her eyes flew open unintentionally, and she could physically see magic pulsing in the air, golden tendrils swirling wildly about, etched into the walls and furniture. Abruptly, her vision seemed to flash again, and the room flickered between it’s lavish, opulent state and a dark, desolate view, the walls scratched and fabrics torn. Krista tensed, anxiety creeping into her veins at the strange vision, when the hand at her throat began to move, distracting her. The strange flashing fading, Krista gasped as his palm glided down between her breasts over her bodice, his fingers brushing the swell of one as he passed. His nose trailed from the spot where her shoulder met her neck to her jaw.

“ _Intoxicating,_ is it not?” he purred into her ear.

Krista gave a low moan, unable to deny the heat coiled tight within her. Despite the strangeness of it all and the damnable haze of her mind, she was burning for him. She’d never felt such things before. One hand shakily reached upward toward him over her shoulder, greedy for more contact with him.

“Yes pet,” he encouraged gleefully. “Touch me.” She gasped as her hand met his jaw, fingers trailing the edge of his mask. The heat of his skin was nearly _scalding,_ but she craved more, ached to turn in his arms to face him. But she dared not disobey, eager to please him. “Give in to me.”

He gripped her by the waist and spun her around, surprising a gasp from her throat. His fingers grasped her jaw and turned her face upward, and his lips dove in to meet her own. The heat of his mouth was scorching and his teeth bit sharply at her lips as her mouth was pushed open. It was a _claiming_ of her, and she submitted easily to the force of him. 

It was too much. The toll of having her magic forcibly altered, the fog she’d been stumbling through, the foreign heat spreading through her - her knees buckled and gave out beneath her. Her breath left her in an inelegant _whoosh,_ but before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her head lolled as she was carried to the (ridiculously large) lavish bed nearby. Her mind was too hazy to notice he’d been leading them closer to it throughout their interaction.

Silky sheets met her back as she was laid down, and she trembled as they slid beneath her overheated skin. Her back arched restlessly as he loomed over her, his mouth lowering to press against her ear. “Only you can bring my power to the world, Krista,” he breathed, one hand sliding down the curve of her waist. “And tonight, I will ensure that all know who you belong to.”

Krista moaned low in her throat as he caught her by the jaw and bit at her lower lip, before trailing his hot mouth down her neck to her collarbone. She gripped at his shoulders with trembling fingers, legs shifting artlessly beneath her. His breath on her sweat-slick skin caused gooseflesh to rise, and her thighs parted easily as a knee slid between them. His lips trailed to the edge of her dress, and she keened as his tongue traced the line of it along the top swell of her breast. His teeth gripped the laces and tugged, loosening them for his wandering hand, which came up to begin parting the bodice, revealing the boned corset beneath. Her arms were slid gently from the offset sleeves, before removing the garment and skirts from her entirely, leaving her shivering beneath his gaze, which roved shamelessly over her torso and stocking-clad legs. “Ah, my little butterfly,” he murmured to her. “You are a vision.” She glowed at the praise, arching again as the tips of his claw like fingers dragged over her side. His hands roamed in lazy circles along her ribs and stomach, as though considering what to do with her, before the metal hand came to the top of her corset, and the sharp end of one finger slowly sliced down through each of the laces, forcing her into anxious stillness.

With the last of the laces cut loose, the corset sagged around her, and his hands slid in greedily to touch her newly bared flesh. She groaned as his knuckles brushed the undersides of her breasts, and her thighs unconsciously parted further. He lowered his head to her sternum, mouth dragging lazy kisses along her chest, nudging the remains of her corset fully off with his nose. Krista writhed beneath him, fingers clawing at his back as heat surged through her. He hissed through his teeth as her nails dug into his skin, and a sudden pressure had her hands rising over her head, unbidden. Despite the fact that his own hands were occupied mapping the planes of her body, Krista’s wrists were pinned to the bed above her; she could feel his magic pressing into the thin skin there.

His lips brushed lightly at her skin as he moved over her left breast, kissing along the top and sliding his tongue along the sensitive underside. He just barely touched his mouth to her nipple, making her breath hitch, before teasingly pulling away. He laughed darkly as she whined with impatience. He paid similar treatment to the opposite breast, pulling away after the lightest of licks to her tightened nipple. Krista’s hands pulled uselessly at her magical bindings - she wasn’t sure what exactly she wanted to do, but not being able to touch him back was _torture._

At last his mouth closed around her abandoned flesh, and her low moan punctuated the air as Krista’s hips canted helplessly upward. He pulled gently at her nipple, tongue sliding soothing circles over it before he released her, blowing a warm exhale over the wet skin. Her head tossed as he repeated the action on her other side once more, and pressed her shoulders hard into the bed when a hot hand slid down her outer thigh, lightly gripping her behind the knee. He pressed hot slick kisses in a meandering line down her body, his tongue coming out to flick a playful circle around her navel, startling a gasp from her. Nips and licks trailed her hip bones, and her body rolled in a sinuous wave. Krista’s eyelids fluttered open to see the top of his masked face dipping between her thighs before she felt a hot tongue slide up her inner thigh. A wanton moan escaped her as his claws slid up the opposite leg, his mouth pressing to the line where thigh met torso, and if she wasn’t mistaken she could feel a grin curling his lips. Her heels pressed into the mattress as she shamelessly bowed toward him, and she cried out when he licked a long line up the length of her, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves at the top. Her wrists strained at the magical restraints, muscles in her legs quivering as he slid his powerful arms under them, working long slow licks into her. One ankle rose unbidden to press into his back, and similar pressure was then forced onto both of them, pressing her legs open wide. She whimpered plaintively and shuddered when he chuckled against her nether lips. He kept a steady pace against her, occasionally swiping a wet circle against her clit to make her gasp and moan. He never changed speed, not even when she began rocking her hips and murmuring breathy pleas into the air.

After some time, he began tapping and flicking his tongue lightly against her clit when he discovered it made her bite her lip and twist her hips, and she could no longer stand the torment. Magic surged up from within her, breaking through the bonds at her wrists, and her hands flew down to grip the horns curling upward from between her legs, pressing herself forward into him. This only seemed to spur him onward, and for a moment she swore she could feel a sort of masculine pride echo through her mind he slid the tip of a slender finger into her entrance, circling it along the muscle as his tongue at last slide firm circles about her clit. She moaned low and long, pulling him closer to her, knees attempting to press together as heat coiled tight within her. Krista let her eyes drift half open to see her own hands gripping the horns of his mask...but in the flickering firelight for a moment they seemed to be a part of _him._ She moaned with abandon anyway, pulling him closer. His tongue, hot and slick, continued to move in tight circles around her. When she was shaking and gasping and felt as though she was somehow both about to fall and come apart at once, he put his lips around her, pressed his tongue against her clit, gently suckled, then _hummed_ and -

Krista threw her head back and cried out as white light seemed to explode from behind her eyelids, and she felt her energy fly wide from her, and once again felt his magic grasp eagerly at it, sending more heat and divine pleasure through her. She gasped and shivered at the marvelous sensations, lasting longer than she thought they would, errant flicks of heat skittering through her at an unsteady pace as she came down. She eventually realized the little bursts of pleasure were from his tongue slowing against her, before finally parting from her altogether.

He rose to his knees before her, and the light of the fire behind him put a heated glow to the lines of his body. She didn’t know when his clothes had come off and she didn’t care. The sight of his lean muscles and imposing figure hovering over her made her quiver with anticipation.

For a moment, the world distorted again, and Krista could swear his eyes gleamed red above her, and his mask no longer seemed to be a mask at all, but his actual face. But all at once, the vision vanished, and the mask was in its proper place once more, his eyes gray, but no less heated.

His hands grasped the backs of her knees and pulled her hips up onto his bent legs. Krista rose up onto her elbows, hooded eyes locked with his penetrating stare. She felt the movement of his hand between her thighs for a moment, then the head of him press against her entrance. Slick as she was from his previous attentions and the sheer want of him, he slid easily into her, and little keens and whimpers of pleasure escaped her throat as he eased his way inside of her. He let out a low hiss as he seated himself fully within her body, and her fingers clawed at the sheets as he set a slow, sensual pace.

Time stretched as he rolled his hips steadily against her; at one point Krista had lowered onto her back once more, her arms stretched long above her as she writhed languorously beneath him. A heated hand snaked under her lower back, pulling her upward until she was seated upon him, meeting his eyes once more. His fingers gripped her hip firmly, almost painfully, and she whimpered at the dominant feeling. He pushed and pulled at her waist, teaching her to ride him, and she let her head drop back in wild abandon as she caught the technique. His nose ran the same line from where her neck met her shoulder to her ear as it had earlier, the claws of his metal hand sliding into the curls at the base of her neck. She could feel the ends of them tickle the dip of her back as he fisted his hand in her hair, tilting her head to the angle he wanted, exposing her neck. He nipped at her earlobe as she continued to ride him. She gasped as he pulled her hips harder and more sharply against himself. She could feel heat coiling within her once more, driving her higher than before, and her muscles tightened in anticipation. His mouth pressed to her ear once more, breathing harshly to her:

“You. Are. _Mine._ ”

Each word was punctuated by a snap of his hips, and she cried out as he suddenly latched his mouth to the side of her neck, teeth digging in hard. She shattered once more for him, pleasure searing through her veins as their magic entangled gleefully a final time, and she could feel him pressing his hips hard into her as he poured his essence into her. She moaned as she felt the now familiar twist of his magic stroke through her mind, as though giving her loving praise. And she had the oddest sensation that he left an imprint of himself behind, like an artist’s signature. She couldn’t help but bask in the knowledge that he marked as such, and could feel the echoing pulse of his energy in the physical mark on her neck as well. He’d left the brand high on the side of her throat, easily seen. A subtle threat to others.

A long, lazy lick over the mark had her shudder and involuntarily pulse around him...her eyes blinked open realizing he had not softened within her. She lifted her head with trembling muscles to meet his gaze. A decidedly wicked, smug gaze.

“Oh, my naive little pet,” he cooed, raking his nails and claws alike down her back. “Did you think we were through?”

Krista squeaked in surprise as she was tossed back to the mattress, wondering just how long the night ahead would be as he rumbled a dark laugh into the skin of her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry this took so long guys, it was fighting me hard. And I'm super sorry for not repling to reviews yet my internet's been wonky D: I'll be taking care of that momentarily, you guys seriously motivated me so much to continue, you have no idea!
> 
> I haven't written smut in a while, I feel out of practice. I hope it came out okay!


	3. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucio’s damn fun to write but now Asra gets a turn ;)

The grey light of earliest dawn was just beginning to stream through the window panes when Krista’s eyes blearily opened once more. She blinked slowly at the unfamiliar room before her as her memories of the previous night slowly trickled back to her. Visions of deep red and gold and the memory-ache of claws scratching up her side had her squeezing her eyes briefly shut once more, before finally taking in her surroundings.

The room no longer held the lavish appeal it had hours before, but neither was it in the broken down state Krista had originally thought it to be. Instead everything seemed somehow...muted. The colors dulled, the fabrics and metals perhaps aged, but not destroyed. The fire in the hearth had burned down to the embers, leaving her naked skin a bit chilled beneath the blankets. A glance to the bedspread revealed a white robe had been laid out for her. She slowly rose and pulled the robe over her shoulders, letting the blankets slip from her chest as she tugged the soft fabric about herself. Her gaze finally fell to the marble writing desk on the other side of the room, and caught her breath as she saw him seated there.

His back was turned to her, but Krista had the sense that he knew she was awake, an echo of awareness in her mind flitting to her. Before him on the desk, there were papers scattered about, and she saw the feather of a quill twitch, along with the telltale sound of feverish scritching on paper. He seemed uneasy, and Krista found herself moving toward him without thought.

Her bare legs slid noiselessly from the silken sheets as she left the bed, the hem of the robe trailing behind her. She padded over to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, slipped her arms over his shoulders. Contentment rolled through her mind from him, and he very nearly _purred_ under her attentions. Krista beamed at his acceptance of her, and allowed the fingers of one hand to trail up and down the skin of his good arm, and slid the other up over his shoulder, passed over his mask, and finally dared to brush them over his golden hair. From her vantage point, she just barely caught the corner of his mouth turning up in an amused grin. She couldn’t help a soft smile of her own - despite the strangeness of it all, this felt almost _domestic,_ something she never would have expected to experience when she’d been pulled from her room the previous night.

Her fingers left his hair to graze the tip of one of the horns curling away from his mask. It was sharper than she’d anticipated, and she so she moved on before she could unintentionally cut herself. Her finger slid down the curved horn to skirt gently around one of his eyes. She shivered when he hummed pleasantly, feeling the vibrations roll through his chest and into her arms. She traced the edge of his mask then, breath quickening when the sharp tip resting on his cheek scraped her flesh. She remembered the strange images she’d briefly seen the previous night when she had touched his mask, the way it had seemed to be a part of him, and curiosity welled within her. Biting her lip and steeling her courage, Krista slid her fingers beneath the mask, pulling it away from his face.

_**“NO!”** _

Krista gasped and frantically backstepped as the form before suddenly twisted, his shoulders hunching and skin seeming to split, Her vision swirled as rage and pain swept through her mind. Crying out, she gripped her head in her hands and the white hot sensation, falling to her knees. She cast wide eyes up at her torturer, fear turning her blood to ice as she saw the creature he’d become. White fur had taken the place of his skin, and the golden arm had disappeared, leaving only a stump. He was some mix of goat and man, standing upright on hooves, his face twisted into monstrous form, and golden horns very much attached to his skull twisting back from his snarling visage. Blood red eyes glared into her own, pinning her in place.

 _“What have you done, you **stupid** girl!”_ he roared at her. Krista flinched and scrabbled backward on the ground, her knees coming toward her chest.

 _“Oh, don’t **run** ,”_ he laughed cruelly, no mirth in the sound. _“This is what you wanted, is it not?!”_ he snatched her wrist tightly in his claws, tugging her forward. Krista whimpered and turned her frightened gaze away. A torrent of emotions swirled through her head, too fleeting and confusing for her to pull apart and understand. All she managed to take away was a sudden stab of hurt when she could not bring herself to look at him. Slowly she shifted her eyes back to meet his own, willing herself not to flinch at the demonic stare.

A long tense moment passed, Krista shivering in his grasp as he stared her down. A million questions trembled on her lips, but she dared voice none of them, afraid to bring about his ire. At last he released her, and she fell heavily to the palms of her hands from the few inches he’d lifted her. She watched as he turned from her, pacing a few steps towards the fireplace, which slowly flickered back to life. Krista breathed hard into the silence.

 _“You are afraid of me,”_ he growled into the air. Krista shakily opened her mouth to deny it, but he continued before she could. “As you well should be.”

She let her mouth fall closed.

 _“Did you think all that happened last night was where this ended?”_ he snarled, almost patronizing. _“There is so much more to this than you know.”_ He was quiet for another long moment. _“You were not meant to see this. Not yet.”_ Krista felt a thread of uncertainty from him, so startling and brief she wondered if it had really been there at all. Her eyes dropped to the mask which had fallen near her feet.

Slowly, Krista rose and picked up the horned mask with trembling fingers. She turned it over in her hands for a moment, examining it. Magic thrummed through the wood and gilded metal, enchanted in a way she’d never seen before. She willed herself forward toward him, stretching her arm out to give it back to him. He turned his head to look at the mask, then at her. Despite the lack of pupils in his eyes, she felt his gaze on her acutely. At last he eyed the mask once more and took it in his claws from her, turning away once more.

His head bent forward as he pressed the mask to his face, and Krista watched as his form shrunk once more, twisting back to his original state, fine fabrics draped along his shoulders and all. He turned to face her again, imperious stance returned, and took her wrist once more. Considerably more gently. “Come,” he said. “You must return. No doubt your employers will be wondering where you are.”

* * *

“Where could she have gone?”

“Do you suppose something happened to her?”

“I heard she ran away!”

 _“I_ heard she was kidnapped!”

“There was moaning heard in the halls last night - ”

“Perhaps it was the ghost - ”

“Surely it’s a publicity stunt - ”

“She must have - ”

_“Enough.”_

Gasps and squeaks of surprise arose from the nobles gathered in the sitting room, the group breaking apart at the sound of the Countess’ voice. She stood at the door, arms crossed and an imperious eyebrow raised as she stared them down. All gazes immediately dropped to the floor.

“Have we stooped to spreading rumors now?” she said flatly as she lowered her arms and crossed the room to the organ in the corner.

The courtiers eyed each other easily before one dared speak. “Please, forgive us milady, our curiosity got the better of us.” She risked a glance up at the Countess, whose glare seemed to have softened. Somewhat. “The Magician disappearing last night was just so startling! We can’t imagine what must have happened to her.”

“Yet you’re quite happy to make up wild explanations in place of the truth,” the Countess accused. The noblewoman’s cheeks colored. “Since I’m sure there’s nothing to be done for the rumors that have no doubt already begun to spread, you may as well know - Krista has returned safely to her rooms.”

Eyes widened and jaws loses at once to speak and pepper the Countess with questions, but she lifted a graceful hand to stop them before the cacophony could begin. “I’m afraid beyond that I know little more than you do. She is quite tired and needs rest, and so she is not to be disturbed. By anyone.” The eyebrow rose again, cold authority in her eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”

The nobles nodded and babbled their agreement before scurrying out of the room, nearly trampling Portia who’d been on her way in. The handmaiden quickly sidestepped and eyes the group curiously as excited whispers immediately broke out among the group upon their exit.

The Countess sighed and dropped her head into her hand. “I had hoped to get ahead of such gossip.”

Portia couldn’t help a wry smile. “Such things spread like wildfire here, milady. I doubt there is much you could have done to prevent it.” The Countess hummed in begrudging agreement, before lifting her head and putting her fingers to the keys of the organ. A gentle, if somewhat agitated, melody slowly filled the room. “Was she alright?” Portia asked quietly.

The Countess nodded and opened her mouth to reply when the door swung open once more. Portia squeaked in surprise as Asra strode in, concern and fright etched into his face in equal measure. “Your Highness! I’d heard you’d spoken to Krista, is she here?”

Portia stepped forward to usher the man from the room, but paused when the Countess lifted a hand to halt her. Asra glanced between the two of them before giving a somewhat sheepish apology for the intrusion.

“That’s quite alright,” the Countess replied. “And no, she isn’t here, she’s resting.” She lifted a hand once more when Asra immediately made to leave the room. _“And_ she’s asked to be left alone for the time being.” The magician paused, torn between desire to see his dear friend and to respect her wishes. “She is unharmed,” the Countess continued, unperturbed. “She only said that unforseen circumstances had arisen due to her magic and she’d needed to leave for a brief time.” The Countess then politely averted her gaze to brush some imaginary dirt from her sleeve as she continued. “She also asked me to express her apologies for being unable to join you last night.”

An awkward moment passed, but ended when Portia tactfully offered to get some tea. The Countess motioned for Asra to sit as the handmaiden bustled out the door. The melody struck up once more, decidedly more soothing than before.

“She...really didn’t say anything more?” Asra pressed after a time.

The Countess shook her head, a crease between her brows as she frowned. “No. I must admit, I am concerned as well. I can’t say I have known her long, but this seems very unlike her.” An unspoken question lie in her statement.

“We were friends as children; I’ve known her most of my life,” Asra confessed. “A lot can change in nine years, but I have to agree. She isn’t the type to just disappear without saying anything.”

“Hmm. I suppose speculating will get us nowhere. I offered to wake her for lunch - I’m sure she will have answers for us then.”

* * *

Krista’s eyes opened with a small start as she woke, groggy and disoriented. A knock sounded at the door after moment, alerting her to what had startled her from sleep.

“Come in,” she called, a bit hoarsely. She cleared her throat and repeated the invitation.

Portia slipped into the room as Krista pulled herself into a sitting position. “Sorry to disturb you,” the handmaiden said as she entered the room fully. “Milady wanted to know if you still want to take lunch with her?”

Krista nodded, running a hand through the loose curls falling over her shoulder. “Yes, thank you Portia.”

Portia nodded, but didn’t move, drawing Krista’s gaze after a moment. “I…” she started hesitantly, then sighed in frustration and gave up pretense of professionalism, sitting beside Krista on the bed and taking one of her hands in concern. “Are you alright? Everyone was so worried when you disappeared, no one had any idea where you’d gone!”

Krista ducked her head shamefully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. Things happened to me last night that I...I’m not sure I can explain.” Her brow furrowed as she searched for the right words. “I...went on a journey of sorts. Answers to my questions were quite suddenly before me and I couldn’t pass up the chance to seek them out.” She squeezed Portia’s hand. “I do apologize, I truly didn’t mean to worry you.”

The handmaiden huffed out a sigh, more out of frustrated concern than true irritation. “It’s alright, but don’t do that to me again! I was beside myself!”

Krista couldn’t help a giggle at the image, and Portia gave her a gentle shove, smile playing about her lips. The women shared a hug before the handmaiden left to inform the Countess she would be down shortly.

Left to herself, Krista’s smile faded a bit, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on her mind. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of what had happened, what had changed about herself. She felt different in a way she still couldn’t describe, and was curious to know how her magic had been affected. Unfortunately, there was no time to test or deliberate - she needed to meet the Countess, undoubtedly answer a multitude of questions, and then immediately ready herself for the continued party that night. She ran her fingers over her scalp once more, took a steadying breath, and crossed the room to her wardrobe, picking a sensible outfit that would be easily changed out of for the masquerade later.

As she passed in front of the mirror, Krista’s eyes were drawn to a dark blotch on her neck, and she paused to take a closer look at it. Her fingers rose to brush the purplish mark, deliberately left high on her throat,a shiver going through her as she remembered the feeling of teeth digging into her flesh, pleasure rolling through her as his hot mouth sucked at her neck....

Flushing in embarrassed arousal, Krista turned from the mirror, mentally going over how she would braid her hair to hide the incriminating mark.

* * *

Krista gave the dark liquid in the delicate cup a curious sniff before taking a sip, eyebrows lifting in surprise at the taste. The Countess eyed her with amusement over the rim of the cup.

“Well?” she asked.

“It’s...interesting.” Krista mused, taking another sip. “Bitter, but it has sort of an earthy undertone too. What did you say it was called?”

“Coffee,” the Countess replied. “I have it imported from Prakra, but it’s made in a few other places as well. I grew quite fond of it in my youth.” She grinned at Krista’s dubious face. “It is something of an acquired taste.”

Krista set down the cup. “Thank you for letting me try it.”

The Countess nodded. “It’s always helped me regain my energy - I thought it might be prudent, given the late night you had.” She then folded her hands together. “I had hoped to speak to you about that.”

Krista lowered her gaze. “I had thought you might.”

“When I ran into you in the halls this morning, you looked quite out of sorts,” the Countess noted. “Were you merely tired?”

“It was...partially that,” Krista hedged, pretending not to notice Portia listening in the corner of the room (who was pretending to be watering a plant.) “I’m not quite sure how to explain the events of last night, your highness. I can only say that I would not have left if I had not felt it was necessary.”

The Countess leveled her intense gaze on her, a look Krista had come to know meant she was deciding whether or not she believed you. She’d never once claimed she thought Krista had lied to her, but she offered her the same deliberation each time anyway. It was a trait the magician rather admired. It wasn’t something she did necessarily out of a lack of trust, but out of a belief that all were equal, and capable of more than they might seem, both good and bad.

“Well,” she finally continued, a small smile at her mouth. “A good mystery is always popular. If anything, this will only bring more guests to the palace. You’re becoming quite a notable figure, my dear.”

Krista huffed a small laugh. “It’s not something I ever expected to be.”

The Countess’ smile widened as she sipped at her coffee. “You were the talk of the Hunt last night,” she said. “You should have been there, we had quite the time hunting for the phantom.”

“The...phantom?” Krista asked hesitantly.

“Surely you’ve heard the rumors that a ghost haunts these halls,” the Countess inquired, waiting for Krista’s affirmative nod. “There’s quite a few stories about whom it may be, though the most common belief seems to be that it is my late husband’s spirit.”

Krista struggled to keep her gaze on the Countess’ face, the feeling of a heavy stare coming from the painting on the wall washing over her.

“I thought it might be enjoyable to play into the stories a bit, and have a ghost hunt,” she continued, unaware of the magician’s sudden discomfort. “Not that one could actually be caught, of course. The guests were quite happy to catch the ‘ghost’ I’d hired however.”

Krista giggled, the image of someone running around in a sheet pretending to be a ghost coming unbidden to her mind. “Who did you have playing the part?”

“My brother,” Portia piped up from the corner of the room, coming closer when the Countess ushered her forward. “I can’t wait to introduce you to him, he’s ah...quite the character,” she finished dryly.

The Countess laughed softly. “That he is. Although,” she mused as Krista lifted her cup to her lips to take another sip of coffee. “Despite his flair for dramatics, I do wonder how he managed to make such a commotion in the palace, being outside in the maze as he was. Evidently some of the guests heard moaning in the halls.”

Krista spluttered, choking on the coffee she’d just begun to swallow, and lifted a hand to dismiss their concern when the Countess and Portia turned to look at her. She turned to hide her burning cheeks, vaguely hearing Portia say something about how her brother must have convinced someone in the palace to help him out. The gaze from the painting weighed heavily on her once more, and Krista could swear she heard an amused cackle in the back of her mind. The mark on her neck, covered by her thick braid, throbbed in time with her rapid pulse.

“May I ask what you have in mind for tonight’s opening, Krista?” the Countess asked when her coughing fit subsided. She thanked her lucky stars she could attribute the red in her cheeks to the brief spasm.

“Nothing quite so grand as last night, I’m afraid,” she confessed, but the Countess only smiled. Traditionally, only the first and last nights’ openings of the masquerade were particularly spectacular. The nights in between only required a small display. “Still, I think it’s unique enough to be impressive.”

“I look forward to seeing it,” the Countess replied, and raised her cup to tap with Krista’s, smiling warmly.

The magician smiled back before downing the remains of her coffee, finally raising her eyes to meet the red gaze from the painting as she tipped back the delicate cup.

She could almost swear he looked amused.

* * *

The Countess’ voice rang out over the crowd assembled once more before the balcony; judging by volume of the cheers whenever she paused, even more people had come to attend, as the Countess had predicted. Krista once more stood in the nearby alcove, servant at the ready. She had been provided full length mirror this time to make final adjustments before appearing, due to her late start that day. She pulled the mask she’d chosen onto her face with a relieved little sigh. She’d been uncertain whether or not she’d manage to pull it all together in time. She gazed into the mirror at the finished image, smoothing a hand over the deep red bodice. The gown hugged her tight to mid-thigh, before flaring out to just brush the ground. Black chiffon hung over the red skirts, and gold roses were stitched into the bodice where it ended. Black sleeves of the same material as the outermost skirt hung off her shoulders, and an elaborate necklace of similarly colored lace and beading covered her neck, and subsequently the mark upon it, freeing her to pinning and braiding her hair into an elegant style, curls framing her face. The red mask had a black lace overlay, and feathers and beads in the same trio of colors flared from one side, the nose of it coming to a point, looking very much like a sharp beak.

 _A pheonix,_ Krista thought with a grin, the image once again fitting her emotions perfectly. With the setting of the sun, she had felt power rise in her once again, the night bringing the senses of lives around her forward, till she almost thought she could reach out with her magic and touch them. _Change_ them even, somehow. She had no desire to do so, but the knowledge that perhaps she could if she tried left her feeling exhilarated.

As darkness had rolled over Vesuvia, another sense had risen in her, one that had her near breathless and quivering with excitement. Somehow, she knew he was out there tonight, and she was going to see him once more. She couldn’t explain how she knew, only that it was as certain as the turn of the earth. Briefly, she felt the phantom touch of fingers gliding up her arms, and her eyes fell closed in remembered pleasure.

“My lady,” the servant said, jolting her out of her thoughts. He gestured for her to come closer. “Not long now.” Krista waited at the entrance to the alcove for the Countess to finish her speech, willing her cheeks to cool.

She strode forward once more as the Countess announced her, back straight and chin held high, no trace of the nervousness of the previous night. They greeted one another with a brief clasping of hands, before Krista turned to address the crowd. The cheering lowered to a murmur as she approached the banister.

“It is a pleasure to stand before you all once more,” she began eloquently. “Now, I could give you all a speech, about how we all come here together as equals, how we should share in each other’s joys…” she paused, then grinned. “But something tells me most of you would rather just get to drinking.” Laughter rolled through the crowd below, and Krista could even hear the Countess give a low chuckle behind her. “So without any further ado, let the festivities begin!”

Krista swung her arms wide as she finished her brief speech, and from her fingertips flew a score of birds made of flame and water, flying in twirling patterns through the air, to the delighted awe of her audience. The winged figures danced playfully about for a brief time, before finally crashing together, fizzling away into steam. Applause rang out from below, and Krista gave a small bow before the music started, claps fading away.

“A delight as always,” the Countess commented, coming to stand beside her.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Krista replied demurely, trying to figure out if she could get out of being marched from noble to noble that night. The Countess took a glance at her face and laughed.

“No need to look so afraid my dear, I won’t be parading you about tonight,” she assured te magician. Kind eyes peered at her from behind an owl’s mask. “You deserve to enjoy yourself just as much as anyone else here.” She then straightened a touch and offered her hand. “In the spirit of that, would you like to dance?”

Krista smiled, placing her hand in the Countess’. “Certainly, your Highness.”

“Please,” the Countess replied as she led Krista down the stairs on one side of the balcony to the square below where other couples were already dancing. “You may feel free to call me Nadia.”

“Thank you,” she replied happily as they joined hands, her opposite palm coming to rest on the Countess’ shoulder. “May I ask where Portia’s gone off to? I haven’t seen her since when we all spoke earlier.”

“Probably getting ready,” Nadia replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as they swayed together.

“For?” Krista asked with a curious grin.

“She agreed to be the subject of tonight’s hunt, seeing as her brother so willingly did so last night,” Nadia confessed.

Krista shook her head in amusement. “And what are we hunting tonight?”

“Pheasant, this time. Not so interesting as hunting a ghost, I know, but I have something rather elaborate planned for the final night of the masquerade.”

“I look forward to it, then.”

“It is too bad she can’t be out here tonight,” Nadia continued somewhat wistfully. “I did enjoy dancing with her last night.”

Krista couldn’t help a small smirk. “Oh, did you now?”

To her surprise, the Countess actually flushed under her teasing and cleared her throat in embarrassment. “Yes. Well. We’ve gotten rather....close over the years, I suppose.”

A couple dressed as a jester and a fairy twirled by, ad Krista’s eye was briefly caught by the jester’s outfit. It reminded her starkly of the Fool card in her deck. Her attention was diverted once more the next moment however, as the song ended and couples began to part. The Countess steppe back and dropped into a polite now which the magician returned.

“Thank you, Krista. I’m afraid there are courtiers I must attend to now however, lest they seek out my attention themselves.” Her flat tone brought laughter bubbling to Krista's lips, but she held it back.

“Yes, your - Nadia. I’m sure we will speak later.”

The Countess turned to leave then, and a finger tapped Krista’s shoulder.

“You seem to be in need of a dance partner.”

Krista turned to see the smiling face of Asra - albeit somewhat obscured by a fox mask - and an answering of her own formed instinctually. “Asra! I was hoping you’d be here.” She grimaced as she remembered the way she’d left the previous night. “I’m so sorry for not meeting with you - ”

He raised a hand to halt her rushed apologies. “The Countess passed on your message this morning, it’s alright. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” He then turned his palm upward, inviting her to take it. “But I do hope you won’t be disappearing tonight.”

She smiled and placed her hand in his. “I certainly don’t intend to.”

His arm went around her waist, holding her a bit closer than the Countess had, and they began to move in time to the gentle music. “You look beautiful, by the way. I’ve always liked phoenixes.”

“It’s too bad they’re only a myth,” she replied, hoping the dim lighting hid her slight flush.

“I like to think they were once real,” he said. “But you would still outshine them.”

Krista resisted the urge to giggle foolishly. “Well you’re certainly full of compliments. Is this the part where you tell me you have a favor to ask?”

He laughed. “Somehow I don’t think flattery would get particularly far with you.”

“No, but feel free to keep trying.”

Still grinning, he shook his head fondly. “You seem different now.”

She tilted her head curiously. “From when we last met, or from last night?”

“Both,” he replied. “You’re more...confident in yourself. It’s nice.”

She glanced away briefly, considering her answer. “Well, having a Countess appoint you as her advisor can certainly do wonders for one’s ego.”

“She chose well,” he responded. “I always knew you were special.”

Blush returning, Krista opened her mouth to reply, but the song ended with a round if polite applause, interrupting her. They were then rejoined by the Countess, accompanied by a tall stranger in a raven mask.

“Krista - Oh, good evening Asra, it’s lovely to see you again,” the Countess interrupted herself as she noticed the second magician. “I hope you’re enjoying the party thus far.”

“I’m glad to see you again as well, your highness,” Asra responded with a smile. Abruptly, Krista noticed that his hand still rested on the small of her back. “And yes, I’m having a wonderful time.”

Nadia gave him a gentle nod in response before gesturing to the man beside her. “I’d like to introduce both of you to Doctor Julian Devorak, Portia’s brother, and the ‘ghost’ who provided us so much entertainment last night.”

“Asra,” the man said, lifting his mask to reveal a pleased grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Asra smiled in return, reaching forward to briefly shake the doctor’s hand. “Julian. I thought you’d left town already.”

“Portia convinced me to stay for the masquerade,” he replied, and cast a fond look about the palace grounds. “I have to say, I’m glad she did. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Countess.”

“You two know each other?” Krista inquired, glancing between the two men.

“We ran into each other a few days ago at the market,” Asra explained, a small, amused smile on his face. “Literally. I do hope none of your pomegranates were bruised.”

Julian laughed bawdily. “Not so much as my ego!” he turned his infectious grin on Krista then. “I’m afraid I flailed around like a fish out of water right there in the streets when your friend here knocked me down.” He then extended a hand to her. “You must be Krista; my sister’s spoken of you.”

“Only good things I hope,” she replied, giving his hand a firm shake.

“Perhaps we should let the two of them get better acquainted,” the Countess suggested. “Asra, would you like to dance?”

He cast a quick glance to Krista, who gave him a little nod. “I’d be delighted, your highness,” he said, linking their arms as they strode away.

“And you, my lady?” Julian asked, offering his palm to Krista once more. “It would be an honor to dance with the Court Magician everyone has been speaking so much about.”

“Oh?” Krista asked as placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her closer to the throng of dancers. “And what do they have to say about me?”

“Quite a lot of things,” he replied, lowering his mask once more before beginning their dance. “Ranging from you being the next great sorcerer in the land to nothing more than a power hungry liar, whispering deceit into the Countess’ ear.”

“I see,” Krista mused as she did a brief turn. “What about you, doctor? What do you believe to be true?”

“Hmm,” he deliberated his answer for a moment as they paced through the steps of the traditional dance. “My sister trusts you,” he said at last. “Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

Krista smiled, and it occurred to her that she actually had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. She couldn’t decide if that meant he was preposterously tall, or she was absurdly short. “In that case I look forward to our friendship, doctor.”

“Please, call me Julian,” he said, and gave her an elaborate spin, despite the fact that it was not part of the dance. “Since we’re going to be friends and all.”

She laughed in response. “Very well. In that case, feel free to call me Krista.” They fell back into the correct motions as she made a face. “I have to admit all this ‘my lady’ business is a bit uncomfortable.”

“Then you’ll hear no more of it from me,” he replied kindly, as the relatively short dance ended. His gaze was then drawn to a point over her shoulder, and he gave a little nod in the direction of it. “Nor from him, I suspect.”

Krista glanced back to see Asra returning to them, alone. Evidently, her curiosity was clear on her face. “It’s nearing midnight - the Countess is preparing to give her opening speech for the hunt.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Julian said as they parted fully. “I do love a good chase, and Pasha’s always been excellent at hiding.”

“She does have an advantage on us,” Krista pointed out. “She likely knows the castle and all of its secret spots. We may not find her at all.”

“True, but you and I have an advantage that neither she nor Julian have,” Asra said. Noticing that the Countess had begun her brief speech announcing their quarry for the night, the group moved a few polite steps away from the crowd to continue their conversation. “I’m sure if two excellent magicians put their heads together they could sniff her out easily.”

Krista grinned. “What makes you think I won’t simply use my magic to find her and win the Hunt myself?”

Julian gave another raucous laugh, earning himself a few annoyed stares. “Hah! That sounds like a challenge to me, Krista!” A thoughtful finger rose to his chin, trademark grin ever in place. “Maybe you and I should team up instead? After all, Asra is the odd man out tonight.” At her confused look he explained. “With the Countess and my sister included, the rest of us appear to be _birds of a feather.”_

She couldn’t contain a laugh at that. “He does have a point.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourselves,” Asra said slyly. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve you know nothing about.” His eyes met Krista’s then. “You’re not the only one who’s learned some new things over the years.”

“Perhaps we should make this interesting, and each go our separate ways,” Julian suggested.

“Are you proposing a wager?” Krista asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much money to bet with,” Asra said ruefully.

“Nor do I,” the doctor sighed. “Pity that. We don’t have to bet with money though I suppose.”

Krista was about to ask what he’d meant by that, but was interrupted by a cheer from the crowd as the Hunt was called to begin. They were jostled for a moment as people took off in different directions, each hoping to catch the wayward pheasant. Avoiding the throng of excited party-goers, the trio soon found themselves near the hedge maze.

“If I know my sister,” Julian mused. “She’d hide in here, hoping to confuse her pursuers.”

“I have to agree,” Krista replied.

“What about this bet?” Asra asked, glancing between the two others. “I’m still interested if you two are, but what would we be betting?”

Julian tapped his chin for a moment. “I suppose we could just bet a favor to be named later.”

“That’s a bit vague,” Krista said dubiously. “How are any of us to know that the winner won’t ask for something…”

“Illicit?” Julian said with a grin, then chuckled. “I promise not to ask for anything untoward if you two don’t.”

The two magicians shared a glance and shrugged, agreeing without much fuss.

“It’s a deal then,” Julian said with finality, and all three took a moment to shake hands, before turning to the entrance of the maze. Three pathways were before them, two to the right and left, and one that stretched straight ahead. “So, should we count to three, or - ”

At once, both magicians took off in opposite directions, Asra to the left and Krista to the right.

Distantly, she heard an indignant _“Hey!”_ and laughed as she flew across the dirt and leaves.

Grateful she had chosen to wear sensible boots instead of the pretty heels Portia had first brought her - she had been _sorely_ tempted by them - Krista did her best not to trip over roots or bracket as she raced through the maze. She allowed her intuition to guide her around twists and turns, taking her deeper into the living labyrinth. The air grew cooler as she ran, soothing her overwarm skin. Eventually, she had to slow to a walk, breath coming in short puffs, gradually evening out with each step. She paused briefly as she came to a fork in her path, felt her magic give a gentle tug to the right, and rounded the corner. She halted once more however, when she saw the two dogs she had run into the previous night sitting in her path.

“Mercedes, Melchior,” she said in surprise. She’d asked Portia about the dogs earlier in the day, and hadn’t been surprised to find out they had belonged to the late Count. Although... _No, that can’t be right,_ she thought. That had been...thirteen years ago? More? _She must have meant their predecessors._ “I was wondering where you two had gotten off to.”

They each huffed at her, and stood, pressing their snouts eagerly into her palms. She let her hands drift hesitantly over their warm fur as they circled her, sniffing her persistently. One stepped around to stand in front of her, and the other butted it’s head gently against the back of her knee, as though trying to push her forward. “Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I can take a hint.”

A small wuffle came from the one who had shoved her leg - Mercedes, she was pretty sure - as it moved around before her as well, content to lead her way. She followed them through a few more turns, the sounds of the party growing ever more distant. Then, as they passed through a space between two hedges, the air rippled, and they vanished.

Krista paused once more, briefly shocked by the sudden disappearance. The distortion in the air reminded her starkly of the way her mirror had rippled last night when she had touched it...Haltingly, she reached out with her fingers, until they disturbed the magical barrier. The tips of them disappeared before her eyes, the ripples cascading to the hedges on either side.

Once again, she felt that certainty rise in her - the absolute knowledge that he was here, so close to her, if only she would reach out to him, willingly go to him. And perhaps it made her a fool, but she couldn’t keep herself away.

Krista stepped through the barrier.

* * *

For a moment, the world swirled before her, blurring and distorting, and she felt dizzy and confused. Then, it came into sharp focus so suddenly it stole her breath. She took in her surroundings as she caught her breath.

She appeared to be in some sort of unused square of the maze, and she could see no entrance - or exit - to the area. Marble made up the floor, as though it had been intended for some special purpose, but had been long forgotten. The sound of flowing water came from behind one of the hedges, and Krista thought perhaps they were near the fountain at the center of the maze. While she couldn’t say she was terribly familiar with the layout of the maze, she was pretty sure she’d remember such a large blocked of section of -

Heated fingertips brushed down her jaw, halting her thoughts and freezing her body into place. Her eyes drifted shut as he drew his fingers down the thin skin of her neck, and she melted into his touch. He reached the fabric of her lavish choker, allowed his knuckles to drift over the spot where her mark lay, before finally pulling away. Krista’s eyes blinked open once more as the mark gave a brief throb, and she turned to see him standing beside her. She was quite certain he had not been there a moment ago.

“Hello again, pet,” he purred, heated grey eyes leering at her from behind his mask. “I see my curious butterfly has grown more elaborate wings. They’ve certainly earned you attention this evening.”

Asra, she thought. She wondered for a moment if she should apologize for dancing with him, but her master did not seem angered. Amused, if anything. Nevertheless, he sensed her thoughts as though they were laid out in writing before him.

“You need not worry, pet. The poor fools can’t help being drawn to you.” His gaze slid eagerly over her form, and she could almost feel it’s touch on her skin. “You are a _beacon,_ effortlessly pulling moths to you with your fire.” He then eyed the necklace obscuring her throat. “I do wonder though, why have you chosen to hide the gift I bestowed on you?”

He actually sounded hurt.

“Forgive me,” she said earnestly. “But surely you know that people fear what they do not understand. I have a few friends in this place, but I do not think they will accept...this.” She wasn’t at all sure what to call whatever _this_ was.

He hummed thoughtfully. “They are beneath you,” he told her. “But you are correct, my pet. A wise choice then, I suppose.” The distant music from the party seemed to swell around them, and she was graced with another of his dazzling smiles as he offered his hand to her. “I do hope you’ve saved a last dance for me…” His grin then turned wicked. “Unless of course, you’re too tired from our exploits last night.”

Though her face heated, a boldness took Krista. “I think you’ll find it takes quite a bit of effort to exhaust me,” she said coyly, a sly smile on her lips as she took his proffered fingers.

He threw his head back and laughed, and she was startled by how very happy and _human_ he sounded. “Well,” he chuckled as he brought his hooded gaze back to hers. “I suppose I’ll have to try harder then, won’t I?”

She ducked her head, embarrassed, as he pulled her close, torso tight against his, possessive grip firm around her waist. No chance of escape. Following his lead easily, they stepped into a slowly spinning dance, and Krista’s vision seemed to blur, her entire world narrowing down to only him. His intense gaze entirely arrested her own, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. The world spun gently beyond them, unnoticed. His skin was as heated as it had been before, just on the side of burning, and she could sense a hunger in him, a primal thirst that had her thighs quivering for want of him between them. His fingers slid up her spine, making her shiver, and she felt tugging at the ties of her choker behind her neck, before the fabric fell away. His hand drifted down once more, and his lowered her into a dip, until her weight was supported almost entirely by him.

He brought his mouth down to her jaw, and she whimpered helplessly as it slid down over her neck, drawing closer to her mark. She could feel herself surrendering, giving in, and just as she started to tip her chin back to expose her skin to him - a voice from the other side of the bushes arose, as unpleasant as suddenly being doused in cold water.

“What are you _doing?”_ A girlish voice was laughing. “We can’t do this out here!”

“Relax,” a man’s voice replied, lustful amusement threaded through it. It sounded familiar, and Krista racked her brain briefly before realizing it was the voice of the jester that had nearly bumped into her earlier. The woman’s voice must have been the fairy. (Or well, it probably was, anyhow.) “No one’s going to come out this way, I heard they spotted the girl clear on the other side of the palace grounds.” He then chuckled in a way that was likely supposed to sound arousing. “Oh, or are you afraid the ghost will find us out here?”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t moved her from their bent position, Krista could feel all of her partner’s attention on the muffled conversation. His eyes did drift toward the direction of the voices at the mention of the ghost, a corner of his mouth turning up in amusement.

The woman shushed him. “Don’t _say_ that!” she whispered frantically. “What if there really _is_ a phantom, and he hears you? You’re asking for trouble!”

An exasperated sigh preceded the man’s next words. _“Lucille._ The Count died fifteen years ago. Almost to the day! If his ghost truly haunted the palace, I’m certain someone would have evidence of it by now. Besides, even if he was real, what could he possibly do?”

A beat passed. “Well... _fine,_ but could we just...go somewhere less _creepy?”_

“Anything for you, my dove,” the man replied, and their voices receded as they left.

Gently, Krista was pulled back to a standing position. “Well,” her master mused. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Krista hesitated uncertainly, a question at the tip of her tongue. Her eyes drifted over the goat’s mask, remembering how the horns that curled away from his face had seemed to be a part of him at times. And the horrifying visage that had met her when she’d unthinkingly removed the mask that very morning. “Is that...truly what you are then? The ghost of the Count?”

He glanced away from her, and lifted his metal hand, uncurling the golden fingers one at at time as he gazed at it. “I am that, and more.” He said finally. “I must confess I...am not entirely certain what the ‘more’ entails. This was...not what I expected.” His voice sounded small, somehow.

Silence reigned for a long moment as Krista processed this new information. At last, her partner - the Count? - lowered his arm once more, and bent to retrieve the choker that had dropped to the ground. He spun her by the shoulder and re-tied it about her neck, letting his touch linger on her skin as he finished. “Now then,” he said, his voice returning to it’s seductive roll as he led her to a wall of tall bushes. “If I’m not mistaken, you have a party to return to...And a pheasant to catch.”

With that, he shoved her into the bushes.

Instead of meeting branches and bramble however, Krista stumbled into an alcove, tripping right into another person, who exclaimed in surprise as they toppled over. Krista grunted as she lifted herself onto her elbows to see who she’d crashed into. _“Portia?”_

“Krista!” the handmaiden said, as shocked as she was. “Wow, I didn’t even hear you coming. Look at that, you found me!”

“Yeah,” she muttered as she rose to her feet, pulling Portia up with her. Feathers on both her dress and mask bounced gently in the wind. It was a rather impressive pheasant’s costume, she had to admit. “Would you look at that.”

“I suppose we’d better get back to the Countess, let her know you’ve won,” said Portia, sounding a bit out of breath. “To be honest, I’ve had quite enough running for one night.”

“Me too,” Krista couldn’t help agreeing, and linked arms with her friend as they picked their way back through the hedge maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, another update? It’s a miracle. I may actually finish this bitch.
> 
> Fun fact I actually started this fic with the intention of making Julian the Phantom (the apothecary mask was what made me think of it) but then I realized Lucio was the better fit and Asra made a better Raoul and now poor Julian hardly even features haha
> 
> Still love you slippery boy!


	4. Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. The wonderful and amazing [Sphinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxxx/pseuds/sphinxxx) drew fanart for this crossover. I am humbled. Speechless. _And freaking the fuck out it's amazing I can't stop staring at it._
> 
> They are an amazing person and friend and I'm just so happy ;w;
> 
> [Click here to see it!](https://julian--devorak.tumblr.com/post/175827625395/why-so-silent-great-monsieurs-did-you-think)
> 
> So long as they are okay with it, I will be posting the art itself into the story here in a couple of chapters when The Thing happens. I'm so excited, are you???!!!

All around the gilded dining table courtiers and nobles giggled and babbled to one another, filling the room with with merriment and joviality. The events of the previous night’s Hunt had been nearly as exciting as the one before, as far as they were concerned at least. Though she found their frenzied racket a bit tiresome, Krista did have to admit, the night’s events had been thrilling.

At the head of the table sat Nadia, with Krista at her right - as she always would at meal times, should she remain Court Magician - and Portia at her left, much to the nobility’s astonishment. The Countess had declared that the handmaiden had more than earned the right to dine with them, and Portia had colored and grinned happily at the praise. The two were presently leaning towards each other, smiling as they chatted amiably about something Krista could not hear. She would have found the whole scene rather sweet if not for the side-eyed looks they were receiving from the courtiers. They either didn’t notice or paid them no mind, however Krista shot daggers at the gossiping hens with every chance she got. They would wither under her glare, but inevitably take to whispering again shortly thereafter, and the cycle would start once more. As if that wasn’t enough, for once the ever present stare from the painting on the wall didn’t seem directed at her, but rather at the two distracted women, and the magician could swear she felt a strain of disapproval echoing through her mind; though it wasn’t jealousy, she couldn’t help noticing.

After another bout of glaring at a gossiping noble, a cool hand reached over to rest gently on Krista’s. Asra, sitting to her right, gave her a gentle smile, perfectly aware of the silent battle going on at the table.

“While your glower is quite daunting,” he said quietly, leaning close so as not to be heard. “I doubt it will be enough to stop them unfortunately.”

“I can’t just let them treat her like this,” Krista hissed back, throwing another narrow-eyed look at courtier who’d actually dared point. He quickly dropped his hand and lowered his gaze in shame. “She’s far kinder to them than they deserve.”

“I’m sure she’s quite aware of the way rumors spread among nobility,” Asra replied. “She knows what she’s doing. But if it bothers you that much, maybe we can... _dissuade_ them for a bit.” A mischievous smile played about his lips.

“What did you have in mind?” Krista asked, unable to help a smile of her own forming at his devious look.

His fingers slipped from hers to under the tablecloth, which shifted as he moved his hands, and she glanced up to his face when he began muttering something under his breath. Catching her eye, Asra shot her a wink and twitched his head in the direction of the nobles across the table. Krista glanced up just in time to see the glass of one of the courtiers flash briefly, unseen by it’s owner, who was too busy tittering at something their neighbour had said. Oblivious, they took a long sip from the glass, earning an amused smirk from Asra. At last, they opened their mouth to reply to something another had said, but instead a loud obnoxious _CROAK!_ loosed from them.

A long moment of silence followed, all eyes staring at the red-faced courtier.

“Er...Corin?” another man at the table piped up after awkwardly clearing their throat. “Are you quite alright?”

The noble sputtered for a moment, aghast and embarrassed. “Y-Yes, I’m sure I’m fi- _CROAK!”_ They clapped their hand over their mouth when a second croak escaped them, blush spreading.

Attempting to muffle her laughter, Krista turned away and hid her smile behind her cup of coffee, and could hear echoed cackling in her mind. _The **witch** has turned them into a **toad!**_ The voice chortled uproariously.

The other nobles all gathered around the still mortified Corin, all attempting to ask them whatever the matter was, what had happened to them, _why_ were they making such sounds. All questions were met with increasingly agitated croaks. At last one of the courtiers turned to the Countess and babbled something about going to see a healer, and Nadia dismissed them with a wave of her hand, eyes wide. The group all shuffled out of the dining room, Corin croaking mournfully all the while before finally going out of earshot.

The room was dead quiet for all of two seconds before the group of four dissolved into laughter.

 _“What_ did which of you do?” Nadia finally asked, in a tone Krista suspected was meant to sound stern. The effect was rather ruined by her giggles.

“Do forgive me, Countess,” Asra replied between his own chuckles. “They were being rather…”

“Boorish?” she supplied dryly.

“I was going to say impolite.”

“Yes, well, normally I’d lecture you for such behaviour,” the twinkling in her eyes said otherwise. “...but I suppose I’ll let it slide today.”

A bit red-faced, Porta brushed a stray curl behind her ear. “I’ll start cleaning up these dishes ma’am,” she said, standing.

“Thank you, dear,” Nadia replied, sipping her tea.

The handmaiden bustled out of the room, plates in hand, blushing furiously. Asra chuckled again with a shake of his head and stood as well. “I promised Ilya I’d meet him in the market before the party tonight, so I’d best be going.” He then reached forward to gently take Krista’s hand, surprising her. “I’ll see you tonight.” A light kiss was pressed to her knuckles, inspiring her own blush.

An enraged growl rolled through her mind then, the mark on her neck pulsed painfully, and Krista snatched her hand back on instinct. Asra’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and though the growl receded the tension in the room was instantly palpable. Unsure of how to explain her odd behaviour, Krista merely stared at Asra, mouth opening and closing uncertainly a few times. Finally he cleared his throat, glancing away, and turned to give a little bow to Nadia, murmuring a farewell before leaving the room. 

Krista glanced up to the painting across the room as the magician left, an unmistakable feeling of smugness slithering to her. She averted her eyes.

With a grace Krista suspected only the Countess could muster, Nadia instantly dispelled the awkwardness in the room. “Well, it’s certainly been an entertaining morning.” She delicately dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief before rising. “Krista, would you like to join me for a walk?”

“Of course,” she replied, rising from her own chair before they left the room together.

They walked the halls in companionable silence for a time, the quiet only broken by the occasional greeting from a servant or noble as they passed. A question was at the forefront of Krista’s mind however, and at last she gathered to courage to speak.

“Nadia, may I ask you something?”

The Countess turned to regard her. “Of course.”

Krista bit her lip uncertainly, deciding to clarify. “About your late husband?”

Nadia’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she didn’t look insulted, merely curious. She inclined her head for Krista to continue.

“I was young when he died, and while I’ve heard a few things about him, I really don’t know very much. Were you two...close at all?”

The unmistakable sound of a scoff echoed in her mind, but she ignored it in favor of the Countess’ thoughtful expression as she considered her answer. “Not especially so, no.” A mental _hmph._ “Though that isn’t to say I wasn’t upset when he passed.”

The sounds in her mind stopped then.

“I was quite young myself when we married; it was arranged you see,” Nadia explained as they passed through a doorway and came to a stop on a balcony overlooking the hedge maze. “We didn’t have much in common, and if you’ve heard anything about him then you know he wasn’t well liked by the people.” Her gaze was far off. “Nevertheless, it can...get quite lonely, when you’re in a position above all others. In a way, we were the only ones who could really understand one another. I don’t miss him exactly, but it was...upsetting.”

Krista twisted her fingers together, guilt beginning to trickle through her as the mark on her neck gave a feeble pulse. She wasn’t sure if was something she even should feel bad for, considering the nature of the Countess’ relationship with her late husband, not to mention the fact that it was difficult to truly put a label on exactly who had shown her such incredible things two nights before...but she still felt that she had committed a betrayal of sorts. She considered briefly telling the Countess everything before quickly dismissing the idea.

“Ah, there’s a storm coming in,” Nadia said quietly. Krista glanced up to see dark clouds slowly rolling across the sky towards them.

“Oh, I hope it won’t rain during the party,” she replied.

“We shall see,” the Countess said.

A servant then came through the doors. “Apologies, my lady, your highness,” he said, giving a brief bow. “But your presence is requested in the great hall Countess, evidently there’s some disagreement on which flowers are to be set out tonight.”

The Countess gave a deep sigh. “Very well, I will be there shortly.” She turned to give a nod to Krista. “If you will excuse me.”

The magician gave a polite nod back as well as the Countess left the balcony, leaving Krista to stare out over the slowly darkening maze, her thoughts just as confusing as it’s twists and turns.

* * *

“Ow, _ow,_ not so hard!”

“Sorry!”

Krista rubbed at the sore spot on her face that Portia had just pressed her fingers into, trying not to pout as she met the handmaiden’s gaze in the mirror. “What gave you this idea, anyway?”

“The Countess,” Portia replied, even kneeling down to press a little kiss to the spot she’d unintentionally hurt on Krista’s face, making her smile. “Apparently she’s doing something similar with her costume for the night.”

“Oh?” Krista asked curiously as Portia returned to her task. “What is she going as?”

“She wouldn’t tell me!” Portia huffed, an uncharacteristic whine in her voice. Sheepish, she cleared her throat and continued. “All she said was that it relates to mine, somehow.”

“Which I have to say I _love_ by the way,” Krista said with a grin, eyeing her friend in the mirror once more. Portia had donned a pirate’s costume for the evening, hair tied back with a red scarf, a billowy white shirt falling off one shoulder, dark breeches with another scarf replacing a belt, and tall black boots. She’d evidently considered an eyepatch, but forgone it for fear of added clumsiness.

“Why, thank you!” she said cheerfully with a jaunty wink. “Ilya will be thrilled; according to him, he used to a be a pirate.” At Krista’s incredulous look she held up her hands in defense. “Oh no, you’ll have to ask him for that story, I’ve never believed a word of it myself.”

Attempting to reign in a giggle - Portia had admonished her many times to sit still - Krista’s eyes drifted unconsciously to her neck in the vanity. After rushing back to her rooms earlier, realizing Portia would be by soon to help her with her costume for the evening, she’d taken a look at the mark she would be attempting to conceal with a spell, expecting it to have grown somewhat smaller or faded. Instead, it appeared only darker, and if she wasn’t mistaken, dark veins were even beginning to spread from it. She hadn’t had time to ponder it though, as Portia had knocked on the door then, and she’d had to hastily wave her hand over it, muttering the incantation under her breath. It would only hold for a few hours, but it would have to do. In addition, she and the handmaiden had coaxed her curls into straightness, brushing it out long and sleek over her shoulder, and Portia had put some cream into it, gifted to her by the Countess, that would help it stay such.

“Aaaaaand...done!” Portia said theatrically as she finished her project. “What do you think?”

Krista stood to take in the full look. In lieu of a mask, faux black scales had been pressed to her forehead, cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and even part way down her shoulders and upper arms, shining iridescently green in the candlelight. Her lips had also been painted a dark emerald hue, giving her the look of a serpent. A sleeveless black dress hugged her curves, the end trailing slightly behind her the way a tail might. She had been concerned about she would dance like that, and Portia had shown her how the end could be pinned to her hip. The dress shimmered in a similar way to the scales on her face, and she felt decidedly _wicked._

“It’s perfect,” Krista said, pressing a hand to the daring neckline. “I fear I may draw quite a bit of attention though.”

“That _is_ sort of the point,” Portia noted from behind her, strapping a rapier to her waist as they prepared to leave. Then she shot her a teasing look. “Besides, something tells me you’d like a certain magician’s attention.”

Krista stiffened on instinct, expecting to hear a growl in her mind, or some other form of admonishment. But strangely, nothing at all came. _Curious,_ she thought suspiciously.

“Well, in any case,” Krista deflected, hoping Portia would mistake her silence for embarrassment. “We’d best be going, wouldn’t do for me to be late.”

Thunder rolled outside then, the promise of rain threatening. Portia sighed.

“I’m not so sure it matters at this point - that storm is surely going to ruin the party.”

Krista smiled as the two women linked arms, leaving the room. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Portia narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Why do you look so sneaky?”

Krista widened her own eyes in feigned innocence. “Me? Sneaky? What ever would give you that idea?”

“Yeah,” Portia drawled. “Pull the other one.”

* * *

The guests gathered beneath the balcony were mumbling dubiously to one another as Krista stepped toward the ledge that night, looking up at the darkening sky with worried gazes. The storm was brewing voraciously now, the rain surely minutes, if not moments, away. Just as the magician had opened her mouth to deliver yet another speech, thunder boomed once more, drowning out her voice. A few undeserved shrieks erupted from the more easily startled guests.

The sound of a rumbling lion’s purr drifted through her then, so similar to the thunder she nearly missed the words. _Often times, silence can say so much more than our words ever could. One need not say anything to make a statement._

A grin lit Krista’s face then, and she took a deep, steadying breath as she lifted her arms to the sky. She’d never made one quite this big, but she could feel power deep within her bones, pulsing in the night and storm around her. She drew on it, letting the arcane energy fill her and flow out from her fingertips to the sky. Slowly, a shimmering dome began to form around the palace, stretching from directly above them to the edges of the grounds, to the awed gasps of the people below. Just as the protection spell came to a complete close around them, the heavens boomed once more, and rain began pelting down upon the fabricated shield, sliding in rivulets down it’s smooth surface. Delighted applause struck up, joy that the party would continue unhindered palpable in the air. Krista took an elaborate bow before stepping away from her place at the balcony, moving over the the little alcove she’d occupied each night. She’d placed a small sigil on the wall there earlier, and placed her hand over it then, murmuring her third incantation of the night. It was taxing, all the magic, but worth it.

Portia approached her just as finished the spell, a curious look on her face.

“A ward,” Krista explained. “This should keep the dome from falling without me having to keep a constant eye on it. It’ll only last for the night, but hopefully the storm will have passed by then.

The handmaiden shook her head in awe. “You never fail to impress me, Krista.”

The magician smiled bashfully at the praise, then glanced over Portia’s shoulder as she noticed the Countess approaching. “Oh, Nadia, hello,” she greeted, coming to stand beside the handmaiden as she turned. “You look lovely, but I’m...not entirely certain what you’re supposed to be, exactly.”

The Countess chuckled good naturedly. “A siren, my dear, a mythical creature from Prakra.” She tossed shifted the elaborate braid her hair had been spun into over one shoulder. “They were lovely maidens who lived in the sea, and would lure wayward pirates to them with their songs.” She met eyes with Portia and tossed her a wink, instilling a blush to the woman’s cheeks. The Countess herself was dressed in blues and greens, teal scales dotted on her skin much the way Krista’s were. Seashells made up an elaborate hair piece, pinning her braids in place. The swirling patterns on her dress reminded Krista starkly of the ocean, contrasting in a lovely way with her dark skin.

Silence presided for a moment, the Countess looking expectantly at Portia, who seemed to have lost her tongue. Krista resisted the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation and gave her friend a gentle nudge forward with her elbow. Portia stumbled slightly, abruptly regaining the power of speech.

“Ah, right, um, my la - er, Nadia, may I - that is, would you like to-”

“I’d love to,” Nadia interrupted the handmaiden’s wide-eyed stuttering, taking her by the hand and almost dragging her down the stairs, meeting Krista’s amused gaze as they passed. The magician shook her head fondly at her friends as she watched them enter the throng of dancer before descending herself, dress trailing behind her on the steps. She lingered at the edge of the square for a few minutes, taking in the sight of all the dancers twirling before her.

“Care for a dance?”

Krista turned, startled, to see that Julian had somehow sidled up to her without her notice, and she flashed him a smile. “Good evening, Julian. Yes, I’d love to.”

He took her hand and led her to the chaotic myraid of dancers, stepping into time easily. “I must say, you look positively _charming,”_ he said, grinning.

Krista’s brow furrowed for a moment, puzzled, before getting the joke and giving him a snort. _Snake charmer._ “Very funny.”

“I try,” he chuckled. “Impressive work with the storm, by the way. I’d nearly turned around to leave. Would’ve ended up drenched.”

“Well I’m glad you stayed,” Krista replied. “Have you seen your sister’s costume?”

“Yes, yes I did,” he laughed. “Did she tell you I was a pirate myself, once?”

“She might have mentioned it.”

“Quite a story, let me tell you. It must have been, hmm, five years ago now? I was working as a - oh.”

He paused, glancing over her shoulder, just as a slender finger gave it a tap. “May I cut in?”

Krista turned to see Asra, fox mask in place, giving her a gentle, hopeful smile. Remembering her outburst earlier in the day and wanting to apologize, she nodded earnestly. “Oh certainly - that is, if Julian doesn’t mind…?”

“Not at all,” the tall doctor replied, giving Krista a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “To be continued?”

She grinned and nodded as he left the pair, headed in the direction of Nadia and his sister as the song ended a new one began.

Asra took Krista into his arms then - holding her at a distinctly further distance than he had the previous night, she noticed glumly. “Asra, I’m so sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to be rude…”

“No, not at all,” he replied, looking unruffled. “I was going to apologize to you actually.”

“Me?” she asked, confused. “What for?”

“I know I haven’t exactly been...subtle, about my interest,” he said slowly. Krista wondered if the scales on her face would hide the blush she was sure was brewing. “But the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable, or do anything that’s unwelcome. I am sorry if I have - you need only tell me to stop, and I will.”

Surprised, Krista was quiet for a moment. That he was so open about his interest, not to mention so willing to put it aside in light of her own feelings was...she wasn’t entirely certain she could describe the emotion. Relieving, in a way, but also somehow heart warming. That he put her feelings first wasn’t something she could remember experiencing from someone else, and it brought an overjoyed smile to her face, unbidden. “Nothing you’ve done has been unwelcome, Asra,” she assured him. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting so strangely. I’m sure I’ve been very difficult.”

“Actually, I find you rather alluring,” he said, eyes hooding briefly. “Mysterious, even.”

She giggled girlishly, ducking her head a moment. “Well, that does sound better than _confusing,”_ she said wryly.

He laughed good-naturedly. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me if my interest is reciprocated?”

Krista bit her lip uncertainly, and just as she had opened her mouth to reply, the song ended once more, music shifting to a traditional dance that required all dancers in a particular formation. The sudden shifting of bodies around them jostled the pair, separating them. Krista managed to meet his eyes as they settled into formation, a few spaces away from one another, and tossed him what she hoped was an _alluring, mysterious_ grin as the steps began, blocking him from her view as she took the arm of the stranger before her.

As the song progressed, dancers would move down the line every few steps, changing partners frequently. Not long into the dance Krista met up with Julian once more, who gave her an elaborate twirl as they met in the middle, dramatic as usual. Soon after that, she stepped into time with Portia, who she noticed had a blue-green kiss mark on her cheek and a glowing smile. Nadia came not long after, doing a perfectly elegant spin with her, giving her hand a friendly squeeze before they parted. At last she met with Asra once more, who, with a sly smirk, gripped her by the waist and pulled her up against him as they spun, to the scandalized gasps of nearby dancers. Krista grinned at his unashamed smile, and then they were twirling away from each other once more, changing partners at an ever increasing rate. The colors of the various masks and costumes twisted and whirled through Krista’s vision as she followed the dance, breathless and wild. At last they came to final crescendo, the music reaching it’s peak as they changed partners a final time. Krista looked up to meet the eyes of her last dance partner, and gasped in shock as she steel grey eyes peering at her from behind a white goat’s mask, her body going cold. The vision lasted the barest fraction of a second as all the dancers, herself included came to a halt with the end of the song, and when she blinked he was gone, and she was alone at the end of the line, breathless.

Applause erupted around her, but she stayed rooted to the spot, staring into the space he’d occupied moments before. Had it really been him? Was she losing her mind? A vision of some sort? Her mind raced with unanswered questions.

“Krista...Krista!” Distantly, she could hear Portia calling her name, and turned to look for her.

_Krista…_

She froze once more, whipping around to look behind her as the voice whispered into her mind, but saw no one but the jovial, if tired, dancers.

“Krista, there you are!” Portia said from her side, touching her arm to gain her attention. “Come on, I thought maybe we could get something to drink...are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A slightly hysterical laugh nearly bubbled out of her, but the magician managed to rein it in. “Yes, I’m...I’m fine. A drink sounds good.”

Portia gave her a kind, somewhat concerned smile, and linked their arms as they walked over to the long table laden with various foods and drinks. “That dance can be tiring, I know.”

“Yes, it’s very fast moving,” Krista agreed, latching on to the excuse. “I got a bit dizzy.”

Portia patted her arm soothingly. “It happens to the best of us.”

After sipping on fizzy drinks for a few minutes and chatting, Krista’s heart rate had slowed considerably, though a gnawing foreboding feeling still lingered at the edges of her thoughts. She cast a curious glance about the square, wondering where their friends had gotten off to, and spotted Nadia near the steps leading to the balcony, chatting with a man dressed as a rabbit. When he turned his face in her direction, Krista realized he was the same man who’d been dressed as a jester the previous night. Their conversation continued for a few more moments before he turned and left the square, out of sight. Krista stared after him, the feeling of dread growing. _Something is wrong..._ she thought. _Or am I just imagining it?_

“There you are!” Krista turned to see Asra approaching, Julian in tow. “We’ve been looking for you two.”

“What for?” Portia inquired, smiling at the magician curiously.

“I imagine the Hunt will be starting soon,” Julian answered. “And while trying to best one another last night was fun, we thought perhaps we could work together to find our quarry tonight. Care to join us, Pasha?”

“I can’t,” she said apologetically. “I promised the Countess I’d assist her with any issues that arise tonight. She’s hardly been able to enjoy the masquerade at all, with all the problems the servants keep bringing her.”

Julian nodded, understanding, and Asra turned his eyes to Krista. “And you?”

“Sure, that sounds nice,” she replied.

“Excellent!” Julian said exuberantly. “I’m sure I’ll have a better chance with two hunters on my side - ravens aren’t much of a predator.”

Krista snorted. “Speaking of which, why are you two wearing the same masks as last night?”

“Not all of us can have lavish costumes gifted to us by royalty,” Asra teased, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Krista’s cheeks colored a bit. He had a point there.

The Countess’ speech began shortly after, announcing that they would be hunting rabbit that night, as Krista had suspected when she’d seen her earlier. Nevertheless, she had to suppress a shiver when the audience was told. The feeling of _wrongness_ simply wouldn’t leave, and she was suspecting less and less that it was in her imagination, and more that her magic had caught wind of something she couldn’t identify. She managed to put on a passable smile though, heading into the maze once more with Julian and Asra, as Portia left the group to find the Countess.

They strolled through the hedges at a casual pace, occasionally having to turn back at dead ends and passing by other excited party goers (once they had to awkwardly turn back when they came across a pair of _particularly_ exuberant guests.) The thunder rolled distantly, and when a flash of lightning briefly lit the maze around them, Julian cast a glance at the dome above them, still repelling the storm.

“I’ve never seen a spell like that, it was extraordinary. Where did you learn to do that?”

“Nowhere actually,” Krista replied. “It’s a protection spell that I modified. Pretty simple to be honest, just about any magician could make one.”

“I’ve never seen one quite so large though,” Asra pointed out.

“Well, true, neither have I,” Krista admitted, ducking her head modestly. “I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to make it work, but when I saw the storm coming in this morning I thought it best to try.”

“The Countess certainly made a fine choice, picking you as Court Magician,” Asra said with a fond smile, and reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

Julian then tilted his head for a moment, a ponderous look on his face. “Hear that? I think we’re near the fountain.” The sound of bubbling water was indeed close by, and grew louder as they made a few more turns. Soon enough they came to the center of the square, encased in darkness. “Hmm, you’d think someone would have thought to put up a few lanterns or someth- oh.”

Lightning flashed once more, bringing the scene in the maze’s center into stark view. A rope swung slowly from a tree branch the stretched out towards the fountain, the body of the rabbit-dressed man hanging from it at the neck.

Krista gasped, stepping back as a hand flew to her mouth in shock. The body swayed as the thunder rolled and lightning flashed once more. Blood coated the white fur of the mouth and neck, dripping to the stone ground, where a curious dark shape was.

“Gods is...is that his _tongue?”_ Julian after a moment of horrified silence, having spied the same shape she had.

 _Poor fool,_ a distinctly smug voice slid through her mind before going quiet once more. A muffled whimper escaped Krista from behind her hand, and Asra reached out to pull her close with an arm around her shoulders.

“Someone needs to tell the Nadia,” he said quietly. “And we’ll need to block off the area, no one else needs to see this.”

“I’ll talk to the Countess,” Julian offered. “You can set up...wards or something, right?” His eyes kept flicking back to the swaying body. Krista found herself unable to tear her gaze away at all.

Asra nodded. “Yes. Take Krista back with you please.”

 _I should help…_ she thought, eyes unblinking as lightning flashed again. Gods, there was so much blood.

“No, you should rest,” Asra replied, and Krista realized she had spoken out loud.

“He’s right,” Julian replied, gently extracting her from the magician’s arms and turning her from the gruesome sight. “I can’t imagine how much stress you’ve been under lately and now...well you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Krista nodded numbly, allowing herself to led by Julian’s hand at her back as they made their way back to the palace.

* * *

The door clicked quietly shut behind Krista as she entered her room, feeling oddly removed from herself. Mechanically, she changed from the sleek black dress into more comfortable robes, her mind awhirl.

It hadn’t taken long for her and Julian to find the Countess, and the doctor had informed her of what they’d discovered in a hurried, hushed voice. Krista had stayed only long enough to confirm his recounting before Portia had quickly bustled her away from the conversation and up to her quarters, fretting over her ashen face and vacant eyes. Krista hadn’t the energy to attempt to waylay her concerns, merely allowed herself to be led along until she was at last alone.

She sank into the seat before the vanity, detachedly picking up her brush to run through her hair when she noticed a tingle at her neck. Her eyes rose to the mirror, seeing that the concealing spell had worn off. The mark was definitely darker now, beginning to spread, and purple-black veins were indeed beginning to stretch from the center.

Krista stared at the mark, unblinking, until her vision went blurry and she was forced to close her eyes. Instead of re-opening them however, she laid her head on the surface, cradled by her arms. _What is happening to me…?_

_Krista…_

Gasping, she she shot up once more, to see his visage in the mirror standing behind her. She stood and whirled around...but was faced with only her empty bedroom.

Adrenaline still pumped through her veins, leaving her breath quick and a stinging sensation in her feet. All at once, she _longed_ for her home, somewhere familiar, somewhere quiet. Somewhere where she could be alone and away from him, and, and _think._ She snatched up her satchel that was nearby, tarot cards and a few other small items in it, and ran from her room, ignoring the whisper of her name once again slithering through her mind.

She kept running through the halls and corridors, never slowing even as she passed by shocked servants and courtesans. Her flight took her outside, through the gilded trees and and decorations, feeling tears beginning to threaten. Eventually she collided with a party guest, and while they both stumbled, neither fell. Krista looked up to apologize, but froze when she saw it was the woman who’d been dressed as a fairy the previous night. _Lucille,_ her mind provided, and she remembered the woman’s scandalized giggles as her lover had whisked her away to the center of the hedge maze. Where he was now hanging, _dead._

The woman said something to Krista, looking puzzled, but there was a rushing sound in her ears, and she merely pushed past the confused girl, breaking into a run once more. She eventually came to the gates of the palace, bolting past the guards and through the barrier she herself had erected, at once being pelted by the heavy rain. The rainwater mixed with the tears that began to stream down her face as she rushed towards her home.

* * *

At last inside, Krista bolted the door and heavily laid her palm against it, warding it against intruders. She rested her forehead against the wood and tried to get control of her gasping breath; a difficult venture, given the sobs also attempting to make their way out of her chest. When it had at last slowed to a reasonable rate she pulled away and turned to face her small shop. Her eyes moved over the glass case near the front, various magical items untouched inside. The shelves about the room still crammed tight with jars, boxes and knick-knacks, with perhaps a mite more dust than before. Her clothes dripped onto the threadbare rug as she slowly walked forward, belatedly remembering to remove the boots she’d hastily donned.

Drained and exhausted, Krista trudged up the creaking stairs to the second floor, just large enough for a bedroom and small washroom. She pushed aside the heavy fabrics that hung in place of a door, shivering as she made her way to the privy, coming to stand before the sink and stained mirror. The rain had streaked her make-up and many of the fake scales had fallen away, making her look less like a serpent and more like some kind of grim jester. Another shiver racked her body at the memory of the jester last night, and she forcibly pushed it from her mind as she grabbed a nearby rag and began scrubbing her face clean. She then began pulling the remaining scales from her face and body, but quickly grew agitated, and was soon scraping many at once off with her full palms, trying not to sniffle. At last free of them and relatively clean, she propped her elbows on the lip of the sink, and buried her face in her hands, finally allowing her tears to flow freely.

_Krista…_

_“No…!”_ she sobbed into her fingers as the voice whispered quietly, almost tentatively, into her mind.

_You needn’t have run, pet._

“You’re a _murderer!”_ she gasped, hands clenching into fists under her eyes. “I gave myself to a killer.”

_You do not understand -_

_“Stop,”_ she snarled through clenched teeth, feeling power begin to well within her.

_You must listen -_

**“Leave me!”** she cried, magic bursting from within her in a powerful wave. She felt the door within her mind slam closed, and heard the mirror before her crack, a few small pieces of shattered glass falling into the sink. Krista trembled with emotion in silence for few moments before hesitantly pulling her face from her fists, clenched so tightly her nails had cut into her palms. She looked up to see a dozen pairs of her own red eyes staring back at her in the ruined mirror, but no one else.

For the first time in days, she felt truly alone.

Slowly, she sank to the floor, curled in on herself, arms covering her head, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting good y'all >:3 
> 
> Feel free to let me know if you see any mistakes, I'm a lazy editor.
> 
> Also if anyone is interested in being a beta, drop me a line!


	5. All I Ask of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for how long I took to update and how short the chapter is. There's a lot going on in my personal life that made this particular chapter really difficult to write, but I'm really looking forward to the rest of this story, so I finally made myself just go for it. I hope it comes across alright <3

Rain pattered against the thin round window, letting in what little light there was to be had that cloudy morning. The steady pace of water dripping into a pot on the floor from a leak in roof was the only sound in the room. Krista was curled up on the narrow bed shoved into the corner, shrouded in blankets and staring unseeing out into the rain. Her eyes were sore and red from tears and little sleep. What rest she’d gotten had been fitful and plagued by nightmares of being hunted by laughing party guests in gruesome masks, and watched by a pair of red eyes. She’d taken up position by the window afterward and hadn’t moved an inch in hours.

Movement from the street below caught her eye. A man on a horse trudged through the storm, scarf obscuring most of his features. Krista’s mouth parted slightly in surprise when the man neared her building and looked up, a few white curls slipping out from the drenched fabric. _Asra._

She froze for a moment, thinking he had seen her in the window, but relaxed when she realized he was looking at the lion’s head sign hanging above her shop. He dismounted the horse and circled to its front, stroking its face a couple of times before whispering softly to it. Tendrils of magic brushed against Krista’s heightened senses, identifying it as a simple encouragement spell, urging the horse to a nearby warm and dry stable. Not but a week ago Krista wouldn't have been able to sense such a subtle enchantment from this distance, and she winced now at the newfound ability. Her eyes tracked Asra as he approached the front door, eventually out of sight under the awning, before hearing him knock down below.

She remained seated, unmoving.

An unfortunate side effect of being a magician however, is that one’s magic tends to resonate around them, unless actively held in check. As she had not thought to do so, when she felt Asra’s magic tentatively reach out to seek her presence, it was too late for her to pretend she was not in, and she closed her eyes in defeat. She allowed her own magic to give a small acknowledgement to his own before it retreated. Unfolding from her curled position on the threadbare mattress made her grimace, muscles stiff from her long vigil, and she descended the steps to the shop carefully. She pressed her hand to the front door when she reached it, ward briefly glowing white as it fell, and opened the door with her eyes downcast in shame. Just as she'd opened her mouth to apologise for running and hiding like a child however, she was surprised to be enveloped in a warm, if soggy, embrace.

“You know,” he said in a startlingly shaky voice. “I'm fairly certain when a magician pulls a disappearing act, at some point they’re supposed to _reappear.”_

A choked laugh escaped her unbidden, and at last Krista’s arms rose to wrap around Asra, fingers clutching at his torso. They held each other in silence in her doorway for a time, the rain outside providing a gentle ambience, broken occasionally by distant thunder. Tears threatened at Krista’s eyes, to her surprise. _How could I possibly have any more left?_

A cold wet drop fell from Asra’s curls onto her bare shoulder, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine, and at last convincing her to separate from him. “Gods, what am I doing, you’re soaked through,” she said, clearing her throat in an attempt to relieve the lump that had formed in it. “Come inside, you need to get dry. I’ll make some tea.”

A few minutes later Krista had found some large clothes that she usually wore to sleep in for him to wear. (Thankfully he had a rather slender frame.) As her kitchen was barely and larger than a closet, and there was really no room for more that one person to stand in it, he sat at a table in her shop near the kerosene heater, white curls slowly drying. When she at last emerged with an herbal blend in mismatched cups, he smiled warmly at her, and her heart clenched painfully. She’d disappeared on him twice now, clearly frightening him, and he was still so kind to her. Her gaze dropped down again as she sat across from him.

“Krista?” he inquired, concerned. When she didn’t look up he reached across the table to lightly grip her fingers. “What happened?” he asked softly. “Was it just...what we saw? I know it was disturbing.”

“No...I mean, _yes,_ but…” her mouth opened and closed a few times in aborted attempts to explain. At last she pulled her hand away and buried her face in her palms instead. “Oh, Asra,” she sobbed, fresh tears spilling. “I’ve done something _awful.”_

A quiet moment passed before he again reached out to her, gently taking both her hands in his and pulling them from her eyes. “Krista,” he said again, cajoling her to look up. She at last met his eyes and winced at the open, warm affection in them. She did not deserve it. “Nothing you’ve done could be so terrible,” he continued, rubbing soothing circles into her palms with his thumbs. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“If I tell you, he might hurt you too!” she said hysterically, fear turning her blood to ice.

“Who?” Asra asked, composed as ever.

Shaking, Krista stood and walked a few paces from the table, looking out another window. The rain had picked up, greying out most of the outside world. It made her feel safer, somehow, like they were seperated from the rest of Vesuvia. Somewhere where they couldn’t be found.

“You...Have you heard the stories? About the ghost that haunts the castle?”

“Yes?” Asra said slowly, rising from his chair. “It’s just a myth that started after the Count died.” Then he playfully added “Though Julian’s acting the other night may have spurred on those tales.”

Krista didn’t laugh.

Asra stepped up to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s this all about?”

“He’s not a myth,” she at last said bluntly, refusing to tear her gaze from the window, though her vision had gone blurry. “I’ve met him. Spoke to him. Heard his voice in…” she faltered for a moment, fearing that he may question her sanity. “In my head, in my dreams. For _years.”_

Another long quiet moment passed, and Krista scarcely breathed, certain he was going to tell her none of it was true, or indeed think she was crazy.

Instead, he only said “Tell me more.”

The story came spilling out all at once, like the floodgates had opened. Hearing the Devil’s voice for the first time when she was eight, the subsequent dreams that had followed. The Arcana speaking to her throughout her life, guiding her and offering advice. The way the Devil’s voice had become clearer since moving to Vesuvia, and spoke to her the most often. Then, haltingly, and with more shamed tears, going through the mirror three nights before, and the strange, intense interaction she’d had with him. Asra listened to at all without interruption, only gently stroking her shoulder and upper back as she spoke, doing his best to calm her.

When at last she fell quiet, he spoke. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said hesitantly. “But are you sure it wasn’t just a dream? You said you’ve had them before, and with all that you've been through lately…” he trailed off, as she was shaking her head before he’d even finished.

“No it wasn’t a dream. I...He left…” Unsure of how to say it diplomatically, Krista turned her head and pulled her curls away from her neck, baring the spot where she’d been bitten for him to see. “I’d thought it was just a normal mark at first,” she admitted, face burning with shame and embarrassment. “But I’ve felt magic occasionally from it since then, and it’s...grown. I don’t know what he did exactly, but it was _real.”_

“I believe you,” Asra said, no trace of admonishment in his voice. She let her hair drop again. “You said you think his mask was enchanted too?”

“Yes,” she replied, eyes closing as the image of his distorted form flashed through her mind. “I don’t know if he’s really the ghost of the Count, or a manifestation of the Devil, or if the two of them merged somehow, but whatever he is...I think something went wrong. The magic coming off him when he changed felt...altered, off, _wrong_ somehow.” She shivered at the memory of his rage rolling through her mind, his red gaze burning into her. “It was terrifying.”

Asra gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. “He can’t get to you here. You said it yourself, you shut him out.”

Krista smiled shakily, reaching up to give his fingers a returning squeeze, appreciating his comfort. Her gaze dropped from his then, more memories spilling unbidden into the forefront of her thoughts. “But...but the magic he showed me. It was...strange, and confusing, but beautiful all the same.” She slowly stepped away, Asra’s hand dropping from her shoulder as she did. “I could feel it in my mind, and see it around me. For a moment I could sense the lives of everyone in the castle, feel their energy. It was…” Lost in memory as she was, Krista didn’t notice the mark on her neck pulse once as she continued. _“Intoxicating._ I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Krista, you know as well as I do that the Devil represents temptation,” Asra reminded her kindly. “Anything he showed you was an attempt to draw you in. And if he is somehow linked with Lucio...well, the Count wasn’t a good man himself.”

She nodded absentmindedly, then turned to look at Asra, brow furrowed. “I know that, but sometimes...sometimes the way he looked at me, he seemed so…” she trailed off, looking away again. “Lonely. I know he was attempting to deceive me, but that I could see in his eyes. For a moment, after the mask had come off...strange as it sounds, for a moment he seemed so _human.”_

The memory of how his voice had whispered her name like a caress slipped through her mind and she shivered once more. Misunderstanding her reaction, Asra stepped forward and took her hands again.

“Krista,” he said gently, lifting her gaze to his with a knuckle and thumb at her chin. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m glad you trusted me with this - you’re not alone. I would never let anyone harm you, and we can keep him from hurting anyone else too. Together.”

She gave him another shaky smile. “You’re far too sweet to me, Asra. Gods only know what you must think of me now…”

“I think,” he began warmly, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. “That you put too much pressure on yourself. Let me share some of your burden.”

Yet more tears blurred her gaze, though she steadfastly held them in check. “But why? After hearing what I’ve done, how could you possibly still-”

One of his thumbs shifted to cover her lips, halting her speech. “I know this...might sound strange,” he said, pink tinging his cheeks. “But...Krista, I’ve loved you since the day I laid eyes on you. I know we were young, and only had a few years together before your family moved away, but I knew the day we met that you were the one for me. I’ve loved you ever since, and nothing could ever change that.”

Krista gazed up at him, wide-eyed as he stared back, his love for her clear in his eyes. The skin of his palms against her cheeks was cool and soothing, and she remembered how utterly safe she had felt when he’d gathered her in his arms earlier. She’d been infatuated with him in their youth as well, though she’d never dared tell him. Her care for him had never stopped either - her heart had leapt when he’d appeared that first night, and she’d truly wanted to spend time with him despite the Devil’s jealous warning. He was like a light in the darkness, the first breath of fresh air after being caged, and more than anything she felt so _happy_ when he was near. Like she could face anything with him at her side. 

“Oh, Asra,” she said, tears spilling despite her efforts. “I...I love you too. I did then, and I do now. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.”

“No, no,” he hushed her softly, bending to kiss the trails of tears on her cheeks. “I don’t blame you, Krista, not at all. You’ve been through so much, and you are so incredibly strong.” Sniffling, Krista moved forward to be embraced by him, burying her face in his neck as he lifted his arms to hold her. “You’re safe with me, always,” he said into her hair.

“I want to be free of this curse,” she said, muffled by his shirt. “No more voices in my head, no more dreams. I just want to be with you, somewhere far away from here.”

“Then we’ll leave,” Asra said simply, pressing another kiss to her temple. “We’ll find a way to undo whatever he’s done to you, and we’ll go somewhere else. You’ll never feel caged again. All I want is to be with you, I don’t care where we are.”

Krista beamed into his tunic for a moment, love filling her heart to bursting, and looked up to meet his adoring gaze. Smiling as well, Asra brushed a stray curl behind her ear, trailing his touch down her jaw to her chin, tipping it up once more as he bent to meet her in a kiss. She threw her arms ardently around his neck, lifting eagerly onto her toes to get closer, and felt his laughter in the shaking of his shoulders. Nevertheless he embraced her fully, arms circling her warmly. He smelled of rain, and summertime, and Krista could almost feel the darkness within her being banished by his light.

A gasp of excited surprise escaped her when he nipped at her lower lip playfully, and she nipped back in revenge - albeit more gently out of nerves. She felt jittery and dizzy and couldn’t quite seem to stop smiling. She rose up on her toes, and he stumbled backward a step, unprepared. They made their way to the stairs that way, clumsy and giggling. THey paused halfway up the steps when Asra pressed her to the wall and kissed her breathless, hands gripping eagerly at her waist. When they at last made it up to the second floor that served as her room, she ran her hands up under the hem of the tunic he’d donned, tanned skin pleasantly cool against her heated flesh. He shivered beneath her touch, and trailed kisses from her mouth to her ear.

“I don’t want to push you,” he gasped softly. “We don’t...we don’t have to, if you don’t - ”

“I do. I want to,” Krista assured him eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. Then a less innocent one to his neck, making hiver again. She tugged a little at the hem of his shirt, and a breathless laugh left him as he pulled it off. She was immediately in his arms again, and he left open-mouthed, sweet kisses down the column of her throat. Small sounds of encouragement escaped her mouth as she arched her neck for him. Movement at her waist told her he was loosening the sash at her waist, and she heard it fall gently to the ground a moment later. She allowed her arms to drop, and the robe fell from her shoulders, leaving her clad in only a thin shift. Asra trailed his mouth down beside the strap on one shoulder until he reached her collarbone, and she dug her fingers into his arms in response. She stepped backward toward her bed, pulling him with her - and abruptly remembered how very narrow her mattress was.

“Oh,” she said, glancing back toward it, with a frown. Asra lifted his head to see what had caught her attention. “There’s um, not much room.”

“Hmm, yes I can see that,” he said on a sigh. “It’s too bad really.”

Krista let her arms fall from his shoulders, disappointed. She was subsequently surprised, however, when Asra wrapped his arms around her, spun them, and sat down, pulling her to sit over him. “You’ll just have no choice but to lay on top of me, will you?” She saw the playful grin on his face then.

She blinked once, and laughed. “You seem terribly put out by it, too.”

His gaze softened, and he reached out to lay a palm against her cheek. “Truth be told, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Heart swelling with affection, Krista leaned forward and rained kisses on his forehead, cheeks, the bride of his nose, and at last pressed her lips to his again, glowing with love. Asra ran his fingers up her back, deepening the kiss and pulling her close. Her curls fell in a curtain around them, tickling her skin.

While the fingers of one hand continued to trail her spine, the other lowered to the bare skin of her thigh, where her shift had ridden up. He traced gentle circles on the overwarm flesh, and she shivered as his touch neared her center. Feeling suddenly constricted and ostroverheated, Krista pushed him back to lay against the bed, proceeding to pull her shift off over her head. Asra’s face flushed as he gazed at her, stroking his hands up from her hips to her soft round belly, and up to her breasts, touch light as though he was afraid of hurting her. She gasped when his thumbs brushed her nipples, and ran her hands up his chest in turn.

Asra pulled her down for another kiss, a pleased hum escaping him as their lips met again. His hand returned to it’s previous quest, fingers skirting around to her inner thigh now, between their bodies. She broke away to bury her face in his neck when his fingers traced along her folds, and he laughed boyishly as he held her close. He explored her leisurely, looking for what made her gasp and shudder, his touch always gentle and soft. She at last came apart in his arms as he rubbed his finger long and slow against her clit, and stroked her back lovingly as she regained her breath.

At last she pulled away from the shelter of his neck, dampened from her breath, and shyly met his gaze. He only smiled at her happily, eyes half-lidded. He looked almost as disheveled as she felt. She faltered for a moment, feeling as though she should say something, but unable to find the words, she merely angled down for another kiss, and soon found herself trailing more down his neck and chest, his breath coming in short huffs as she moved as far down as the small bed allowed, having to curl slightly after licking her way down his toned stomach. She loosened the ties t his trousers and tugged them down, giving a quick kiss to his hip when he lifted them to help. Her fingers traced lightly over his hip bones, and she bit her lip as she took in the sight of him. She darted forward to press a kiss to his skin, then ran her tongue up the hard length of him. A strangled moan sounded from him, and she saw his hands clench in the thin sheet out of her periphery. Emboldened, she flicked her tongue over the tip, and just as she took it in her mouth one of Asra’s hands flew up to her shoulder, pulling her away. Concerned, she looked up to meet his gaze.

“Another time,” he said breathlessly, smiling to allay her worry. “Come up here, please?”

She did so happily, and he pulled her down for a kiss, hands cradling her jaw. Drunk on the feel of him, she sat up, swaying in place a moment. His hands reached out to steady her as she lifted to position herself over him, hand reaching back to guide him briefly. When she had taken him in fully, he took one of her hands and kissed the palm, before pressing it to his cheek. She rocked on him slowly, gaze not leaving his, as they moved together. As the sensations began to overwhelm her, her head dropped back, eyes closing, and his name left her on a sigh _“Asra…”_

His hand trailed her back again, never pulling or pushing her, letting her move as she she wished. He only watched her, moving over him as the pleasure mounted, and said “I love you, Krista.”

She cried out sweetly as she crested, distantly hearing an answering moan from Asra as he followed her over the edge, and collapsed on top of him, sweat cooling between them as they came down as one. She nuzzled into his neck once more in contentment, one of his hands stroking over her hair.

They lay that way for some time, basking in on another’s presence, when Asra eventually spoke softly into her ear. “The rain stopped.”

Lazily, she lifted her eyelids to glance out the small window. The rain had indeed ceased, and the clouds above had broken. Sunlight now streamed through the window panes, settling upon their entwined limbs. A smile stretched her lips. “Yes it did.”

A glance to the floor revealed the blankets they had dislodged at some point, and she reached down to grab one, pulling it over her shoulders. Asra sat up as well, and she retrieved another for him, which he thanked her for with a long, slow kiss. She felt she could kiss him for days.

Hand cupping her jaw, one of his fingers brushed the mark on her neck, and she jolted a moment, afraid it would react to his touch again. Nothing happened however, and she sighed in relief as he broke the kiss to touch his forehead to hers.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he told her earnestly. “You can keep him out, especially here.”

“But what about back at the palace?” she said, fingers worrying at the fraying edge of her blanket. “He was more powerful there. I don’t know if I could have kept him out. I hadn’t even tried.”

He seemed to deliberate for a moment, then reached forward to take her hand, untwisting it from the threads. “What if I helped you? With our magic combined, it may be enough to block him out.”

She shook her head. “You’d have to be with me constantly. There’s no way that could work.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, a curious gleam to his eye. “I could leave something of mine with you.”

“Like what?”

He reached back behind his neck, fiddling for a moment, and she saw the gold choker at his neck come loose. Leaning forward, he gently moved her curls over one shoulder, and secured the choker around her own neck, effectively covering the mark. She could actually feel his magic slide over and cover the lingering darkness within her as he did so. He pulled back to look at her, smiling.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he said on a grin.

Feeling safe and loved, she embraced him once more, and they luxuriated in the warm sunlight for as long as they were able.

* * *

Eventually time forced them to return to the palace, which was a blessedly short trip on the horse Asra summoned back to them. Upon re-entering Krista was promptly tackled by a frazzled Portia, throwing her arms around the magician so forcefully they both nearly fell. The handmaiden babbled so quickly for a moment Krista couldn’t understand a word, but at last she slowed to a more coherent speed. “...have _any_ idea how worried I was after Ilya told us what had happened in the maze?! I _told_ you not to do that again, and then he goes and runs off without telling anyone!” Portia waved an arm at Asra, who winced sheepishly.

Krista reached forward to hug her friend, appalled when she heard a quiet sniffle come from her. “I know, I said I wouldn’t scare you like that again and then I turned around and did just that. I’m so sorry.”

Portia pulled back from the embrace, eyes still glistening, but with a scowl on her face. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but the Countess and I are your friends. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Smiling affectionately, Krista nodded. “You’re right, absolutely. We’ll try to remember that.”

“There’s not much longer left before you’ll need to start getting ready,” Asra pointed out. “You should rest while you can.”

Krista agreed easily, tired down to her bones by then, and allowed Portia to fuss over her as she led her back to her rooms, only relenting when Krista promised to sleep until she came back for her. Once alone in her bedroom, a long sigh escaped her. The last few days had been trying, and she somehow knew this was all far from over. She reached up to touch the gold choker around her neck. _I don’t have to face it alone, though,_ she thought with a smile.

The tip of one of her fingers slid just under the cool metal, as it was just slightly too large for her neck, and brushed against the mark beneath. She felt the connection that she’d blocked in her mind flicker - just slightly, just enough that she felt...awareness. Awareness of _him._ She could sense his magic attempt to reach out to her, to overwhelm her as it had before, but it was pushed back, the combined force of her own will and the enchanted necklace enough to keep him away. Her eyes flicked up to the vanity mirror, and she knew at once that he could see what she saw, for when her gaze landed on the choker, she felt rage boiling from the other side. All at once then, all sense of him faded away, leaving a cold silence in the room, and she gazed wide-eyed into the mirror, unmoving. It reminded her starkly of the first night of the masquerade. She dared not even breathe.

_So,_ the harsh whisper of his voice at last said. _It is to be war between us._ A smug chuckle. _Very well then, pet, I’ll play your game._

Krista tore her fingers away from her neck, willing the connection closed once more. Just before it vanished completely, he left her with one final, dark warning.

_I have always enjoyed a good hunt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I still don’t know what the fuck is going on with Vesuvian clothes, so have my weird, thrown together idea at 4am *dabs*


	6. Why So Silent

 

The cool night breeze carried the lingering scent of rain that night, though the storm had at last broken and drifted away some hours ago. On seeing the wet stones and vegetation around the palace earlier that day, Krista had worried that her barrier had fallen and allowed rain to fall on the guests after her fevered flight the previous night. Asra had kindly assured her however that it had not dissipated until the majority of the attendants had either left or drunkenly fallen asleep in some corner somewhere. The toe of one of her boots tapped anxiously against the damp stone beneath it as she sipped on a glass of deep red wine, glancing nervously about the square. The sight of dancers twirling about in a bright array of colors was almost normal now - or would have been, if it didn’t seem so starkly out of place against the gnawing feeling of unease growing in the pit of her stomach. She’d told Asra of her...encounter after a brief rest, and though he’d seemed on the whole perfectly calm, she could see concern in his eyes.

The grinning faces and laughing masks did nothing to soothe her. She felt eyes on her, real or imagined, and could not shake the feeling of being pursued by any means. She hardly recalled what she’d even done to open the party that evening, and she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be long before the Hunt began. A shiver passed over her as she thought the word, and she pulled the fur of the cloak she’d donned tighter around her, though she left the hood down. It hung on the ears of the wolf’s mask she’d worn that evening, and looked a bit silly. She smoothed a hand over the grey and lavender material tight at her waist, flaring into softer skirts at her hip. The sleeves were made in a similar fashion, hugging her arm to the elbow before widening into long ruffles that she was quite concerned were going drag over food or a drink should she stay near a table. A cool hand slipped over her own then, startling her into nearly spilling the wine in her glass.

“Sorry,” Asra chuckled as he stepped up beside her, his arm coming to wrap around her waist as her own hand fell away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He took in her tight features for a moment. “Are you doing alright?”

“I’m...yes, I’m fine,” she lied, trying to smile. “Just taking a breather. I don’t know how they can all dance so much every night, I can barely keep up.”

“That’s what the alcohol is for,” another voice said, and Krista turned to see Julian approaching, raven mask in place. “It’s easier to forget how tired you are that way.”

Krista cast a doubtful glance at her wine. “I guess I’m not drinking the right kind then.”

“You’d be better off with that punch just over there,” he said, gesturing to a large bowl at a table some yards away. “Though I ah, wouldn’t have more than one glass.” Krista noticed then that he was swaying in place slightly.

“And how many have you had?” she laughed.

“Mmm...four?” he said uncertainly, then hiccupped. “Maybe five.”

Asra laughed and shook his head beside her, then gave her a brief squeeze. “Would you like to dance?”

Krista had smiled and just opened her mouth to agree, but was interrupted by Julian, drunkenly snagging Asra’s arm and beginning to haul him off toward the throng of dances. “I’d love to!”

Krista was bemused for a moment, then laughed at Asra’s flabbergasted expression as he glanced back at her. She waved him off, mood lightened for the moment, and returned to her drink, trying to relax. Belatedly, she wondered if Julian had purposely done that to amuse her. She didn’t know him well, but it seemed the type of thing he’d do, based on some of what Portia had told her of him.

As though summoned by the very thought, Portia came tripping out of the crowd then, turning to glare at the couple of dancers who hadn’t bothered to avoid her as she came through. She adjusted her curls and made her way over to the tables then, steps quickening when she spotted Krista. A cat’s mask was perched on her nose, adding an air of mischief to her already playful demeanor.

“What are you doing over here by yourself?” she asked as she neared the magician, perusing the drinks and finger foods laid out on the surface before them.

“Well I wasn’t alone a moment ago, but your brother appears to have stolen my date for the evening,” Krista said on a grin, gesturing to the two men out in the crowd. Despite Krista’s suspicion that Julian had pretended to misunderstand Asra’s request, his inebriation was clearly no act, as he was practically dragging her poor friend through the steps.

Portia turned to see, then laughed at the spectacle. “Well, wasn’t that rude of him? C’mon, dance with me!”

Krista smiled, finished off the last of her wine, and took Portia’s proffered hand. “Sure, that sounds fun.”

The spinning gowns and flashing colors were a bit dizzying as she stepped into time with the handmaiden, and she wondered if the wine had affected her more than she’d first assumed. It was a veritable sea of smiles and masks, hardly any recognizable. As they spun, she saw a ghoul and a goose, an ace of hearts and a clown, and many others moving so quickly she could not identify them. Though she tried to pretend she was not, a small part of her couldn’t deny she was searching anxiously for golden horns moving through the crowd.

Instead, as she and Portia stepped nimbly through the congregation, having to avoid many of the other couples as the both of them were quite short and easily missed, they nearly ran straight into Asra and Julian, still caught up in the mass as they were. Krista caught the inviting gaze of the former, noticed him reaching out a hand in what she could only assume was an attempt to switch partners, and shot him a playful grin before spinning away again into the crown.

Portia laughed brightly as they went out of sight once more. “You’re going to drive him to distraction doing that,” she said, eyes twinkling merrily behind her mask.

“Isn’t that the point?” Krista countered.

Portia tittered, then eyed the gold choker still around her neck. “Am I crazy, or was Asra wearing that yesterday?”

Krista blushed and glanced away. “He might have been.”

“Ooh, will we be hearing wedding bells soon?” she teased.

“It’s hardly a ring,” Krista laughed.

“Close enough!” Portia replied as the dance came to a close, releasing the magician’s hands. Krista rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she spied Asra and Julian making their way over to a dessert table. Just as she was about to suggest they join them, a slender finger tapped her shoulder, and she turned to see Nadia smiling kindly at her.

“Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them, and bent to press a kiss to Portia’s cheek when the handmaiden smiled widely at her. “I hate to tear you away Krista,” she said. "But I was hoping you’d be willing to join me to announce the Hunt tonight?”

Surprised but pleased by the offer, Krista nodded and slipped her hand over Nadia’s proffered arm. “Portia, would you mind letting Asra know where I’ve gone?” Portia nodded and gave them a little wave with her fingers as they began to cross the square to the balcony.

“You and the magician seem to have grown quite close,” Nadia mentioned with a sly look.

Krista blushed, reaching up with one hand to brush her fingers over the choker on her neck lightly. “Yes, I suppose we have. He’s been very helpful to me over the last few days.”

“I'm happy for you then. He seems a kind young man.”

Krista smiled, and decided she’d been teased quite enough for one evening. “You and Portia seem to have grown closer this week as well.”

Where a blush had appeared the last time Krista had mentioned it, Nadia only smiled now, looking quite pleased. “I'm enjoying her company,” she said demurely, and Krista thought it best not to push.

Once having ascended the stairs, Nadia stepped up the edge of the balcony, gesturing for Krista to stand at her right. The crowd below began to gather, the chatter and music quieting to a lull as all turned their attention the Countess.

“Good people of Vesuvia,” she began. Before she could continue however, there was a sudden flash of searing heat from behind the two women, startling them both into spinning, just in time to see a jet of flame dissipating into the ground, leaving an imposing figure in its place. The crowd gasped and cried out in shock as they saw the source of their surprise.

At the top of the stairs leading down from the palace to the balcony, stood the unmistakable visage of the Count, draped in clothes of blood red, bone white goat’s mask covering the top half of his face, golden horns curling elegantly back from it. He stared imperiously over the crowd as they came to a stunned silence, and began to slowly descend the steps.

Krista couldn't draw in enough breath.

“Good people of Vesuvia,” he said, echoing Nadia’s words. “Did you truly think I’d gone for good?”

Each measured step he took was accompanied by a thud from Krista’s heart. She could not tear her gaze from his face, and though she expected him to turn his burning stare on her at any moment, he ignored her almost coldly. Her skin was alight with nerves, the air alive with tension. There was along moment of silence when he finally reached the banister of the balcony.

“I do hope you’ve all enjoyed the party so far,” he said to the slack-jawed crowed. “The Countess has done an admirable job planning it in my stead.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Krista saw Nadia flinch.

“But as this year is a special occasion, having appointed a new magician to the court, it would be remiss of me not to ensure this masquerade is a memorable one.” He paused, clearly delighting in the suspense he’d conjured. “Tomorrow night’s Hunt will be a momentous occasion indeed. For the first time in history…” He paused a moment, and at last turn to level his gaze on Krista, sweeping out his arm towards her in a grand gesture. “The Court Magician herself, will serve as our prey.”

There were loud gasps and outcries from the crowd at his announcement, though they died quickly. Krista remained pinned under the intense gaze of her master, feeling almost as though he could see right through her. The arm he’d swept out towards her shifted, flipping upward to crook a finger at her, beckoning her closer. Entranced by his scorching stare, Krista’s feet brought her forward by their own volition, until they were seperated by mere inches.

The fingers of his good hand came up to her jaw tipping it back slightly to meet his eyes better, exposing her collared throat. The touch of his skin on hers was so hot she at last drew in a shuddering gasp, and he grinned savagely. His fingers trailed down the line of her neck to the choker, then slipped beneath it to grip it in his hand, pulling her slightly forward.

“Do not forget, little one,” he said on a growl, his grin turning to more a baring of teeth. _“You belong to me.”_

With that he ripped the coker from her throat, pulling a cry from Krista’s mouth, and disappeared in another jet of flame. Breathless, Krista stared into the spot he’d just been occupying, nearly missing the gasps and shocked whispers beginning to roll through the crowd below. Glancing down, she noticed at last where all eyes seemed to be and belatedly shot her hand up to cover the mark on her throat, despite knowing it was far too late. She turned her terrified gaze to Nadia, who was gazing at her in shock. Tears began to burn at the back of her eyes, and after looking back and forth between her and the increasingly agitated crowd below, Krista lifted her skirt and ran back to the palace’s interior, fighting back sobs as she ascended the steps. She heard the Countess call out to her as she fled, but did not stop, speeding through the halls until she at last arrived at her room, leaning back against her closed door with heaving breaths. She was shaking violently, frightened whimpers still escaping her.

Some minutes later, the gentle touch of magic brushed against her own, cool and familiar. Wordlessly, Krista turned and opened the door, stepping into Asra’s arms the moment he reached for her. His hands stroked soothingly over her back, letting her take comfort in his embrace until cries stopped wracking her shoulders, though she couldn’t quite contain the shivers. At last she pulled back, letting him rest his hands on her waist and hers on his chest. It took her a few times to find the breath to speak.

“What...what should we do?” Her voice sounded much smaller than she was used to.

“Nadia’s canceled the Hunt for the night,” Asra informed her gently. “The courtiers are out there entertaining the guests. Actually doing what they’re supposed to for once.” The jest pulled a smileless snort from Krista. “Nadia and Portia are waiting in her sitting room. I think it best we all talk.”

The thought of confessing all that had happened to Nadia filled Krista with dread, cold guilt numbing her limbs, but she nodded all the same with a sniffle. Asra cupped her jaw and tilted her head up, wiping away her tears with his thumbs, smiling warmly at her. She managed to give him a smile as well, earning a sweet kiss from him.

She nodded again when they parted, a bit more firmly. “Let’s go then. It’s long past time they knew.”

* * *

Krista was seated beside Asra, her hand between both of his for support as she finished regaling her tale to the Countess and Portia, standing beside her mistress’s chair. Naida had her fingers steepled before her, expression unreadable. Portia was less able to hide her emotions, eyes wide and fingers pressed to her mouth. A long moment of silence passed as she glanced fervently between the Countess and Krista. The young magician refused to break from Nadia’s penetrating gaze, facing the repercussions head on.

At last, Nadia lowered her hands, folding them delicately in her lap. “It’s quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” she said cryptically.

Unsure what to make of that, Krista nodded slowly.

A long sigh escaped the Countess. “I do wish you’d told me sooner. My husband wasn’t known for being kind, and enjoyed playing games with people. I’d no idea he had not passed on entirely.” A frustrated look twisted her features then. “I should have guessed he would be too stubborn to go peacefully.”

Flabbergasted, Krista gaped at her. “I’m - you don’t - aren’t you angry?”

“Of course I am dear. Unfortunately Lucio has always had a talent for infuriating me.”

“No,” Krista said, shaking her head. “With _me.”_

Surprised, the Countess raised her eyebrows. “Why would I be? He deceived you Krista, that is hardly your fault. And based on what you’ve said he appears to have orchestrated this for some time. There was nothing you could have done.”

“At the very least I should have said something,” Krista choked out, throat feeling tight once more. Stark relief washed through her, having been certain she had lost Nadia’s friendship forever, and still believing entirely that she deserved the woman’s ire.

“Yes, you should have,” the Countess agreed. “But I don’t fault you for not doing so. I can only imagine what these last few days have been like for you.” She gave Krista a kind smile. “What matters now is keeping you safe.”

“I agree,” Asra said, gathering the women’s attention. “We need to figure out how to make Lucio move on, so that he can’t harm anyone else. The only problem is I’m not entirely sure what he even _is_ right now.”

“I have some thoughts on that,” the Countess said, fingers steepling once more. “I’m sure you’ve heard that my husband was quite ill before the accident?”

Krista and Asra nodded in unison.

“He was - unsurprisingly - not willing to accept death,” Nadia continued. “He saw it as defeat, and became obsessed with finding a way to to extend his life, as there was no progress on developing a cure. He surrounded himself with magicians from every corner of the country, and was often buried in books in the library, studying magical practices and theories.” Her eyes became distant and a frown slowly deepened on her face. “He didn’t speak to me much of his research, but not long before he passed I heard...whispers from the magicians. There was an idea that somehow a person could...merge with one of the Arcana, through some type of spell or ritual. I’m not familiar with the specifics. All I heard was that some sort of deal had to be made, and that once the merging was complete one’s life would continue indefinitely.” She grimaced then. “I realized of course that such a thing would appeal to my husband, but as the magician’s seemed to view it as pure speculation, and improbable at that, I didn’t think on it much.”

Asra wore a similar expression. “There are rumors of such a thing, but to my knowledge no one has ever made the attempt successfully.”

“Successfully?” Krista echoed. “But people have tried then.”

He nodded grimly. “Yes. It’s never ended well.”

“What do you mean?”

Asra gave her hand a squeeze, seemingly for his own comfort then. “The results are...unpredictable. Some people have been lost in the other realms, either unable or unwilling to find their way back to our world. Others have been able to return, but with their minds addled. Whether from the attempted merging or from something the Arcana themselves did, I’m not sure.”

“What all do you know of the process?” Nadia inquired.

“Very little,” Asra responded. “What I do know is that only someone born with magical ability can make the attempt, and you cannot try to merge with any Arcana. Anyone with magic - particularly tarot readers - tends to be affiliated with or guided by one of the major Arcana. Any endeavour to merge with one that you are not connected to would be unsuccessful at best, and possibly fatal at worst.”

“Are you guided by one of the Arcana, then?” The Countess asked curiously. Asra nodded. “Which one, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ve always felt a connection to the Magician myself,” he said with a smile.

“Strength has always guided me faithfully,” Krista added quietly.

Nadia had a small smile of her own. “A tarot reader told me many years ago that the High Priestess would lead me through my most troubling days.” Krista nodded, unsurprised. She suspected the Countess had latent magical abilities she was overall unaware of. Nadia’s smile faded then, looking suddenly stricken. “He did the same for Lucio as well.”

“Who did he say the Count was connected to?” Portia piped up when no one spoke.

“The Devil,” Naida at last replied, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“As I’d thought,” Asra murmured.

“Do you think he managed to merge with him then?’ Krista asked shakily.

“Possibly,” Asra replied. “But I doubt it. I can’t imagine why the Devil would want to be caught between worlds the way Lucio seems to be.”

“But is he really?” Krista pressed. “Sometimes he is here physically, like tonight.”

“True,” Asra agreed. “But until recently there have been no verified sightings of him. It seems to me that he only started to come here corporeally after the night you went with him through the mirror.” Krista glanced away, taking little comfort in the reassuring squeeze he gave to her fingers. “Whatever magic he used on you that night may have given the ability to come here physically, at least for a time. He never seems to stay for long.”

Krista remembered some of what he had said to her that night, about bringing his magic to the world through her, and nodded slowly. “That...would make sense.”

“So what do we do?” Portia asked.

Asra sat back, thinking for a moment. “If I could get close enough to him, I may be able to bind Lucio to this world, which would release the Devil. The Arcana can’t exist in our world, as it isn’t a product of magic the way theirs is. It’d be like trying to stay underwater, sooner or later you run out of air. He’d be forced to return whether he wanted to or not.”

“And Lucio?” Nadia asked.

“He’s lived much longer than he was supposed to, and it was the fire that killed him, not the illness,” Asra mused. “Without magic to sustain him he’d pass on.”

“But how are we supposed to get to him?” Krista questioned.

Asra gave her a long look. “I...don’t think we have to. We have a rather simple way of getting him to come to us.”

Krista was confused for a moment, and her eyes widened when the realization dawned on her.

“Absolutely not,” Nadia said firmly, evidently having come to the same conclusion. “I won’t allow her to be _bait._ ”

“Believe me, it’s not my first choice either,” Asra snapped.

“You’re not actually suggesting we do what he says?” Portia said incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Asra argued. “We make her the quarry for the night, but I can keep a locator spell on her, and when he appears to her she signals me, and we get to them so I can bind him.” He met Krista’s eyes again. “All you would have to do is distract him long enough for us to find you.”

“And how is she supposed to do that?” Nadia asked, cleary fuming.

Krista thought for a moment. “He wants me to come to him willingly,” she said slowly. “That’s what this is about. Otherwise he wouldn’t bother with all this. I’m aware the Count was fond of dramatics and putting on a show, but if all he wanted was to capture me he would simply take me, or never have let me go in the first place.” She continued to ponder, thoughts beginning to formulate a plan. “But for the moment he knows I am against him. He wouldn’t believe it if I just let him catch me, he’d know we were up to something. I’ll...let him think he’s convincing me, as he’ll certainly be trying to. Make him think I’m about to agree to go with him, draw it out.”

“Just long enough for us to find you,” Asra agreed.

Nadia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That isn’t a bad idea. In fact it sounds exactly like the kind of thing Lucio would delight in.” She turned her concerned gaze on Krista. “But this is your decision, Krista. No one can force you to do this, and I am loathe to ask it of you to begin with.”

Krista took a long, slow breath, steadying herself. “I’ll do it,” she replied. “I don’t think there’s any other way.”

Nadia closed her eyes briefly, seeming to attempt to compose herself. “Very well. I will make the arrangements. If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with the staff, changes will need to be made. Portia?”

The handmaiden followed the Countess out the door wordlessly, though she reached out to give Krista’s shoulder and friendly squeeze as she passed. Once they were alone, Asra drew Krista’s gaze back to him. “Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly. “I know I’m the one who suggested it but Nadia’s right, no one can force you. I would never make you do something like this.”

Krista took another steadying breath. “No, I have to do this. Who knows what he might do if I refuse? I can’t let anyone else be hurt by him.”

Asra smiled gently, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “You’re so much stronger than I am. I have every faith in you.”

Krista reached up to grasp his wrist, a shaky smile of her own stretching her lips.

Asra leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Go get some rest. I’ll start working on the locator spell. We’ll need it to be as subtle as possible, lest he notice it.”

Krista nodded, rising with him and walking him to the door, where they parted with a kiss. The walk to her rooms was a long one, her mind awhirel with all that had happened. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, and she shivered as she remembered the image of the Count descending the steps slowly towards her just hours before.

When she had at last arrived in her rooms once more, she shut the door with a soft click behind her, and glanced up when she noticed something out of place. Hanging before the doors of the wardrobe she’d been using was a dress, one she hadn’t seen before. She’d been planning to wear a gown that embodied the visage of a lion, an inspirational choice on Nadia’s part. The gown hanging from the top of the wooden dresser was altogether different. Blood red silk and satin colored it from the off-shoulder sleeves to the full skirt, gold beads and thread sewn through the torso, sure to make her glint like fire in the dim light of the party. A delicate mask hung from the dip in the sweetheart neckline, and Krista realized with a start that it was a fox’s mask. Or perhaps a vixen’s, more accurately. It was much more complex than the one Asra wore each night, and she knew without a doubt that the dress had come from the Count. Whether he’d decided on a fox as a way to mock she and Asra’s relationship she wasn’t sure, but knew she’d need to wear the dress to show her willingness. Her submission.

She stared up at the mask, chin trembling in fear and anger. “A fox hunt,” she mumbled, a mirthless laugh escaping her. “It’s a damned fox hunt.”

She looked away for moment, eyes shut and fists clenched, gaining control of her breathing. Finally, she returned her gaze to the crimson fabric, glaring harshly at the mask sitting innocently on the chest.

 _You want a hunt?_ She thought to herself, not daring to speak out loud. _Very well. That’s exactly what you’ll get._

_Catch me if you can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that last line stupid? I feel like it’s stupid.
> 
> Hey, we’re over halfway to the end! Only two chapters left, huzzah! On that note, I do have an idea for a short one chapter epilogue, but I’m not sure if I want to post it. I realize there are a number of Lucio fans reading this, and the epilogue is the only way I can see him _sort of_ getting a happy ending. However it has nothing at all to do with the game or the play, not following either storyline like at all. If anyone would be interested in reading it anyway, would you please let me know? I’d love to get your feedback!
> 
> Once again, big thanks to [Sphinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxxx/pseuds/sphinxxx) for the art!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading, stay tuned for the next chapter! :D


	7. Wandering Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've re written this like five times trying to get it to sound right, I'm done

The fading glow of afternoon shot beams of golden light through the window of Krista’s quarters, creating a halo in her hair while simultaneously casting long, stark shadows on the furniture and walls. One hand was held in both of Asra’s, sitting beside her, as he had been for hours. He’d come to her earlier in the day to cast his locator spell, and to teach her how to call to him when the time came. There was a lingering trace of his magic within her, like the trailing end of a rope, and he showed her how to grasp and pull it with her own. It was initially difficult for her - casting one’s magic outward was one thing, but inward required a different way of thinking. As the afternoon waned however, she took to the concept, and was able to accomplish the task multiple times in a row.

At last, Asra sighed and sat back. “Alright. I think you've got it.” His cool fingers were still wrapped around hers, and there was a worried crease on his brow.

Krista reached up with her free hand and smoothed it away, then impulsively ran her fingers through the fluff of his hair. “It's going to be okay, you know.” Her voice sounded much more sure than she felt.

Asra gave her an unconvincing smile. “I know.” He sighed again, then reached up take her hand and press it to his cheek, and continued in a more certain voice. “You're much stronger than he knows - than you know either, I think. I know you can do this.” He squeezed her fingers. “And I promise I'll come for you.”

She smiled, comforted by his tender gaze. “I know you will.” A glance outside showed the sun beginning to dip past the horizon. “It's almost dark. The party will be starting soon.” Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from Asra's. “You should probably go get ready.”

He nodded solemnly, then unexpectedly shot her a playful grin. “Actually, my outfit is pretty simple, you're the one with the elaborate costumes. Will you even be ready in time?” Krista smacked his arm and he laughed, teasing smile becoming a bit more gentle. “Sure you won't need help getting into it?” His hand ran up her bare arm, eliciting a shiver.

“That does sound nice,” she said, and it did. The promise of comfort she would find in his arms was almost too tempting. “But we really don't have time. What with me and my elaborate costumes.”

Asra chuckled again, rising to his feet. “I suppose I should leave you to it, then. Do you want me to ask Portia to come up?”

Krista shook her head. She'd decided to dress on her own tonight, wanting a bit of solitude to ground herself. “No, let her have some time with the Countess,” she replied, walking him to the door.

They shared a parting kiss, and halfway through leaving, Asra turned back to her. “Remember, call for me the moment you see him,” he said, and reached up to stroke her cheek. “And I'll see you soon.” 

She gave him another hopefully confident smile. “See you soon.”

At last she shut the door behind him, hand pressed to the wood as she listened to his fading footsteps. She resisted the urge to press her ear to the surface, refusing to acknowledge the fear within her whispering that she may not see him again at all.

* * *

It was almost eerie, how quiet the halls here in the upper floors were, while knowing how rowdy the party below likely was. Krista had started wandering the corridors not long before, every booted step echoing off the marble of the palace walls. She pressed a hand to her bodice, even her breath seeming too loud in the oppressive silence. The urge to turn and look over her shoulder was strong, fear that she was being watched, that she would lose this hunt when it had scarcely begun trembling through her. She pushed back the instinct as best she could and pressed onward, uncertain of where she should go. Where in this castle was safe from him? Was anywhere?

_Are you lost child?_

Gasping, Krista spun, certain she was about to face her pursuer, but found only empty air. Breathing hard, she glanced wildly about the hall, seeing no one. When the initial panic subsided, Krista realized the voice had not belonged to the Count, nor any of the Arcana that she could remember.

“Who said that?” She demanded of the empty hallway. “Show yourself!”

 _Such rudeness,_ the voice said, sounding...amused, but not unkind. _But I suppose I can forgive you, considering the danger you face this evening. Perhaps I can even offer guidance?_

With that, the voice died out, and Krista spun in place for a moment, searching for its source in vain. Guidance? What had it meant?

Sighing in frustration, she came to a halt, then blinked when she saw a small furry creature sitting at the entrance to a hallway she was pretty sure hadn't been there a moment ago. A cat, of all things, green eyes gazing innocently at her. The little tabby mewed when she continued only to stare, flabbergasted, then turned and began to walk away from her down the corridor. It had almost turned a corner when her feet finally caught up to her brain and began to move, following the small feline.

Behind as she was, Krista was never quite able to catch up to the creature, and a few times was able to glimpse only it's tail as it turned another corner, taking her deeper into this unknown section of the palace. Once, she was certain she had lost it, but hearing a nearby mewl turned her in the right direction and she continued on. At last, she turned a final corner and saw the hall came to a dead end, the cat nowhere in sight. Instead, she saw an unfamiliar painting at the end, and drew cautiously closer to it.

It was not of the Count, but the former Court Magician, Elymas, their kind smile brought out in fine repose on the canvas, somehow also managing to capture a twinkle of mischief in the late witch’s eye. A tabby cat was curled happily in their lap. Krista stepped toward the painting, curious, and gazed up at the face of her predecessor. Was this who had spoken to her?

An irregularity in the pattern on the fabric caught her eye, and when she leaned forward to peer at it, Krista realized it was a glyph of illusion, cleverly hidden in the folds of Elymas’ robes. Recognizing the spell from her own teachings, she instinctively reached up to trace the lines of the glyph, then pressed her palm to the center, releasing her magic into it. She felt the spell release, and backed away when the painting abruptly began to move away from the wall and slide to the side. When at last it came to a stop, it revealed a dark tunnel leading downward into the castle. Krista summoned an orb of light to her hand, trying to see further down the tunnel, but saw only stone walls.

Curiosity welled within her, the secret part of herself that often urged her to seek out the unknown, despite any danger. Sometimes perhaps even thrilling in it. It was what had gotten her into the this damned mess in the first place, and she hesitated at the entrance to the tunnel, not trusting her instincts. She glanced back to the lit halls behind her, biting her lip anxiously. Out in the open, she was really a sitting duck. She knew with certainty she wouldn’t be able to hide for long, and the voice had offered guidance…

Taking a steadying breath, Krista raised her chin, and began to make her way down the darkened path.

* * *

Running her fingertips along the cool wall of the tunnel, Krista realized that the stone had not been here as long as the castle itself had. Wherever it led, this had been added after the palace’s initial construction. Quite recently, in fact. She couldn’t quite describe _how_ she knew that, only that she could feel it, a quiet knowledge thrumming from the walls into her skin. For a moment, she wondered if she would have been able to sense such things a few days ago, before coming here...and pushed the thought away, trying not to dwell on it.

Still, she pulled her fingers from the wall, and pushed on.

The tunnel took a steady descent, leading her under the castle, until she sensed she was rather deep underground. Eventually, the tunnel came to an end, two large double doors barring the room beyond. The same symbol from the painting was carved into them. Krista repeated her actions from before, tracing the glyph, and releasing energy into it. It glowed white briefly, before fading out, and the doors opened inward almost silently.

Dim light glowed from the large circular room, and Krista lowered her hand, letting the orb she’d cast dissipate. She stepped cautiously forward, eyeing her surroundings speculatively. Wisps floated gently through the air, as slowly as if they were in water. There was a set of shelves with various books and items on it, all arranged neatly, as if for display rather than use. A table with papers and other small knick-knacks. What dominated the room however, was the large stone structure at the center, which Krista realized with a start was a tomb. All at once she realized where she was.

“Elymas…” she breathed, eyes wide as she stepped toward the cask. He’d been entombed here, beneath the castle...and led her here? For what purpose? Bewildered, Krista reached the tomb’s edge, and saw the symbol she’d traced twice now etched into the top of the stone as well. 

She raised her hand, hesitated briefly, and traced the symbol a final time.

Krista cried out in surprise then, her vision suddenly spinning, stumbled as her balance was thrown wildly, and -

* * *

_Whispered conversations in empty corridors, quiet laughter at shared joke, secrets confessed during the night-_

_A shared smile from across the room, eyes gleaming mischievously from behind a mask, none which could disguise him well enough-_

_Bellies warm from wine, faces aching from laughter. The idea is silly, and they’ve clearly had too much alcohol if they are seriously considering it, but they can’t help but wonder, would it work - ?_

_It takes ages to get the enchantment just right, countless nights spent up trying and failing, but the hardest part is trying to keep it a secret, damnable man, it’s supposed to be a surprise -_

_At last they have it, and the mask is presented with a flourish. He is baffled for a moment, not remembering their half-drunk conversation, but when they explain what it is, what it does, he is so fiercely pleased he laughs loudly and pulls them forward into a rough kiss, right there in front of the entire court and they don’t care if the rumors fly, there are a dozen about him and the Countess each circling at all times. And anyway, this one is true -_

_A party has to be thrown of course, the Count eager to use his new toy, to show off and see fear spark in others’ eyes. They know people find him cruel, harsh, but Elymas loves him anyway, loves him so deeply he ignores the Counts’ malicious ways, if it means they will continue to be privy to his husky laughter in the early hours of the morning when neither of them have yet slept, if it means they can continue to be the only one who knows this dark man’s deepest secrets, most private thoughts, all the while knowing he does not love them back -_

_The mask is both a delight and a terror, transforming the Count into something half-beast, half-man. The horns Elymas had adorned it with now appear to grow from his own skull, his smile now edged with fangs, and he teases and parades himself around all night, and Elymas only watches proudly, knowing in the end they are the one he will come to, and their reward will be sweet indeed -_

_Eyes rimmed with red, his skin growing ashen, his body beginning to stoop. The Count grows colder, angrier, no longer the playful lord, and works his staff to the bone, searching ever more desperately for a cure. Elymas bloodies their fists against the wall the day they realize the answer is beyond their capabilities, and magicians are summoned from all corners of the country. They are able to slow the symptoms, delay the inevitable, but they all are eventually turned away, each coming to the same grim realization. The Count is dying._

_Elymas watches on, helpless, weak, heartbroken, and does not tell him the day they cough blood into their own palm -_

_It takes Elymas quickly, so swiftly that it feels mere moments before they are confined to their own bed, and they can’t help being shamefully pleased when the Count ignores all orders to remain in his own room to rest and instead stays by their side. He does not confess any hidden love, and he does not cry, but he is enraged all the same, and Elymas isn’t entirely sure why. It doesn’t matter. They lift a hand to his sunken cheek, offer him a smile that he doesn’t return, and slip away -_

* * *

Krista was torn from the memory with a sharp gasp, finding herself slumped over on the stone slab with shaky limbs. She blinked hard a few times, the images from the vision - memory? - she'd just seen still seeming to linger in front on her eyes like a film. At last, her sight cleared and she attempted to sort through all that had transpired.

Elymas and the Count...had been lovers? And the mask he wore, the magician had crafted it themselves, enchanted it to give the Count the features of a beast. The painting in the dining hall came to mind, and Krista wondered idly if it had been commissioned before or after the mask's creation.

Finally standing straight and getting control of her breath, Krista ran a hand over her face wearily. Why had Elymas shown her this…?

Just then, on the edge of her senses, she felt a twinge of familiar magic. Muted, distant, but close enough to alert her.

_Too close._

Krista's gaze snapped to the door, heart beginning to thud wildly in her chest. There was no other exit from the room, and by the time she made it out of the tunnel her pursuer would be nearly upon her, if he hadn't already started down the path himself. She was trapped.

An echo of delighted laughter seemed to pass through the air for a moment, and Krista cursed as she realized she'd been tricked. Trying not to panic (but aware she was failing miserably,) Krista spun in place, looking for something, anything, that would help her escape. Asra would never find her down here, Elymas had been a master of illusion and they would hide this place from him, she knew it, how could she have been so _stupid…?_

The presence was coming toward her faster now, nearly barreling in her direction, and Krista swore she could feel his magic clawing at hers, gleefully trying sink its claws into her. She instinctively backed away from the entrance to the tomb, until her back hit a bookshelf. She cast her magic out wildly, hoping for a miracle -

And to her shock, found one.

There was the smallest of sparks against her fingertips as they brushed the spine of a book, faint, but promising, and without pausing to give it further thought gripped the book in her fist and yanked it away from the shelf. She couldn't hold back a startled yelp as the world suddenly spun, pressing herself more firmly to the shelf at her back, and blinked hard a few times when she was steady again. Books lines shelves on every wall she could see now. She was in the library.

Despite seeming to have spun in place, when Krista turned back to the shelf behind her, she could not find the book that had hidden the mechanism in the first place, nor any evidence that the shelf was capable of doing such a thing at all. Not that she wanted to go back, but her curiosity burned nonetheless. Shaking her head of the unimportant mystery, she turned back to the issue at hand, taking a long look around the library. While the room itself was dark, colorful light a from the distant party filtered in through the window, dim, but enough to see by. She could hear the music faintly as well, and for a moment yearned to be just another guest, gaily dancing the night away in her lover's arms. She found herself missing Asra terribly despite having seen him only hours before.

Krista gave the window a considering look, wondering if perhaps she could climb out and attempt to get lost in the crowds, but dismissed the thought immediately. She didn't want to draw the Count any nearer to the guests than absolutely necessary, the memory of the guard swinging from a rope in the courtyard still stark and terrible in her mind's eye. It would be best to leave, then. Unless she could find a safe spot to hide away for the night - and trying to do that hadn't gone well - she was certain she needed to keep moving.

She managed to steal out of the library with ease, and made her way further into the castle, away from where the majority of the party was being held. She passed neither guest nor servant in the winding corridors, and after several turns, it occurred to her that that...wasn’t normal. Surely she should have seen _someone_ by then…?

Krista strode more quickly through the hall now, trying to calm her rapidly increasing heart rate, and glanced down the opening to a corridor on her right, passing it in favor of continuing to the end of the hall, planning to turn there. She came to a halt however, when of the Count's large white dogs (Mercedes? Merlchior? She couldn't be sure,) came strolling in from the turn she'd been about to make, then sitting on its haunches, directly in her path. After staring at it warily for a moment, it opened its mouth in a lazy grin, tongue lolling out of its jaws.

Leery of turning her back on it, Krista retreated a few steps, and when she was sure it wouldn’t follow, spun to go back the way she'd come, the hall passing on her left now. When she reached the opposite end of the corridor however, the second dog repeated its counterparts actions, sitting in her way and seeming to give her a menacing smile. Krista backed away again, and when she lingered by the hall she'd avoided, both hounds rose and began to walk towards her. She nearly jumped into motion, managed to convince herself not to outright bolt at the last second, and began a steady pace down the hallway instead, not wanting to incite the hounds into a chase. But they were walking behind her rather than beside, and Krista swore she could feel their hot breath on her heels. It was all she could do not to increase her speed. She remembered the night the hounds had led her through the maze, an act that had seemed cute and playful at the time. When they had led her straight to him.

Abruptly, she felt one nip at the hem of her dress, actually ripping a shred of it from the bottom, and she cried out in surprise. Despite her best effort, she found herself beginning to jog through the hall, soon breaking into a full run when she felt another nip at her ankle. At a dead sprint, she saw double doors coming at her fast and threw her magic out with a flail of her arm, swinging them open before her. The hounds continued to pursue her outside, eventually herding her into the hedge maze before she could stop them. She was out of breath, curls falling around her face and sticking to her damp neck, and she'd never felt more like hunted prey. 

At last one of the dogs got too close to her racing feet and knocked her off balance, sending Krista sprawling to the ground. She found herself on her hands and knees, fighting for breath, muscles trembling from effort, and froze when her eyes fell upon a pair of booted feet before her.

Slowly, Krista's gaze dragged upward, over fine clothing of blood red silk and satin, gold chains and rubies, up to the grinning masked face that had haunted her for days. The Count loomed over her, powerful and dark and bewitching, and Krista felt utterly lost in the intensity of his stare. A gloved hand reached out to her, palm up, fingers curled, wordlessly beckoning her. Krista swallowed hard, and as she placed her smaller fingers in his, gave the faint trail of cool magic within her a firm pull.

_Asra…_

* * *

Hours Later

_“Dammit!”_

Asra clenched his teeth against the sting of his knuckles, bruised from where he’d just punched the wall, straight through a painting of the Count, one of dozens lining the halls. Earlier in the evening he’d felt the gentle but insistent call of Krista’s magic and immediately followed it. He’d passed the Countess as he’d begun to give chase, and after a hurried explanation that Krista had called to him, she’d decided to join him, bidding Portia to entertain - or perhaps more accurately distract - the nobility clamoring for her attention. Julian had appeared at his sister’s side fortuitously, and with the siblings’ natural penchant for storytelling combined, the courtiers had been absorbed enough for the Countess to slip away unnoticed.

Krista’s magic had led them at first like a compass through the palace halls, but soon began to move deeper into the winding corridors. Fearing where the Count may be taking her, Asra and the Countess had quickened their pace, soon racing through the halls after her signal, growing dimmer by the moment. A flash of red disappearing around a corner had caught their attention and, certain it was the trailing end of Krista’s gown, Asra’s heart had leapt into his throat as they ran after it. They’d come to a sudden stop however, when the corner led only to a dead end, a painting of the Count hanging on the wall, expression etched forever into one of arrogant victory. Beneath it sat the Count’s two hounds, one with a scrap of red cloth in it’s jaw. Startled as they were by the sight, neither Asra nor the Countess thought to stop the dogs as they ran past them, the material dropping from the respective dog’s mouth as it ran back they way the’d come. Asra had gingerly picked up the cloth, feeling the last remnants of a mimicry spell fading from it.

The painting had been the outlet for his frustration moments later.

The hall was silent for many long moments then, but for the sound of their labored breathing.

“Where could she be…?” The Countess at last murmured.

Asra ran a hand through his curls. “I don’t know.” He cast his magic out in a vain hope. “Anywhere. I can’t feel her anywhere nearby, but that doesn’t mean much. Just casting this false lead wouldn’t have been enough to fool me, I’d have still felt her magic somewhere else, and there would have been two to track. So he’s obscuring her from me somehow.”

“Where would he take her then?”

“I’m not sure. From what she told me, the first night she went through the mirror they weren’t entirely in our world anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Asra shook out his sore hand, taking up an agitated pace back and forth. “If he was trying to merge with the Devil, he would have either ended up in our world the realm of the Arcana, but something went wrong, and now he’s stuck in between. Which is why he isn’t normally seen, and likely the source of the ghost stories most of the staff here seem to have. That’s where he took her then. It’s possible he’s taken her there now.”

“But why would he…?” The Countess shook her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. It can’t be for anything good. The important thing is, how do we get there ourselves to rescue her?”

“I don’t know,” Asra sighed, doing his best not to snap at her. His frustration had set his limbs to shaking, fear bubbling in his chest. “If he was able to block Krista’s magic from me, then he’s surely able to block whatever doorway he’s using to get them there from me too. He may even destroy it once they’re through, if they aren’t already.” He paused when he saw a curious look on the Countess’ face. “What is it?”

“I...may know of a way,” she said, sounding surprised herself. “Just before he died, when he would have been preparing for this ritual you spoke of, he would go into his private rooms and disappear for hours at a time. More than once, when either I or a servant would go into his rooms after he had, he wouldn’t be there, and later mysteriously show up in them again, as though he’d been there the whole time. I’d assumed there was some sort of secret passage leading into there, seeing as there seems to be dozens of them hidden away in these walls,” She huffed, clearly irritated by the notion. “But now I must wonder if one of the doorways you mention is in there instead.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Asra agreed, gesturing for Nadia to precede him. “Lead on.”

The Count’s private rooms were luckily not far, though their spirits were not lifted when they pushed open the doors to the long abandoned rooms. A thick layer of dust and ash hung on the threadbare fabric and moth-eaten furniture, and a sick feeling of dread somehow clung to the very air, cold and unwelcoming.

“Unfortunately I haven’t the faintest idea where the doorway might be,” the Countess murmured, voice hushed unintentionally.

“Leave that to me,” Asra replied, and cast his magic out once more, carefully and more measured than before. It flowed along the floors and up the walls like water, seeping into cracks and seams, looking for any discrepancy, anything that would feel…

_“There.”_

Asra turned to where he could feel the sensation of a spell brushing against his own magic, aged and fading, but sturdy enough. Another painting of the Count hung on the wall in the same space, more extravagant than the rest. Asra felt along the frame with his hand for a moment until his fingers brushed along a raised button, and pressed it. He backed away as the spell released, and the painting swung away from the wall, revealing a darkened passage.

The magician and Countess stared down the tunnel in silence for a moment, before Asra raised his hand to summon a wisp for light. He held it up to the entrance of the passage, but rather than lighting it the darkness seemed only to absorb the light, almost drawing it away from them even. A sure sign that the tunnel led to somewhere where the laws of their own world did not apply.

“I should go with you,” the Countess said. “Going alone is too dangerous.”

“No,” Asra replied, turning to her. “I need you to be here in case something goes wrong. If I’m not able to get Krista out…” he glanced down and away. “...We can’t let the Count come here, not as he is or if he manages to complete his merging with the Devil. Who knows who else he’ll hurt to get his way?” He closed his eyes. “If we don’t make it out, you need to destroy this entrance. Lock us away there, where he can’t hurt anyone else. The only reason I won’t come out is if Krista is already lost.”

The Countess looked ready to argue, but a hard look from Asra made her clench her jaw in defeat. He was right, and they had no time to search for an alternate option. “How will I know if you aren’t returning?”

“If I don’t make it out by sunrise,” he said. “The Count has never appeared during the day to anyone. I’m not sure he can.”

“Are you certain?”

“No,” Asra admitted. “But what choice do we have? Time moves differently in other realms, and you can’t wait forever. I’ll do my best to sense how much time has passed here while I’m down there, and if Krista is gone…” He took a steadying breath. “I’ll keep him distracted until sunrise. Then you can destroy the gate without him interfering.”

“I understand,” the Countess said softly. “Do be careful,” she implored him.

“I will,” Asra said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. You’ve been a good friend.”

“As have both of you,” she replied, a shaky smile coming to her face.

They exchanged a final shared look of respect, and Asra descended into the tunnel, darkness closing in around him as he departed.

“Bring her back,” Nadia whispered into silent gloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I got to see POTO live the other day, _it was amazing._ A ticket in the second row was one of my Christmas presents, I loved it so much. I would love to go to a really big production of it someday, but this was super fun too.
> 
> Sorry this took so long to get out, seeing as we're getting to the peak of the musical I'm getting paranoid about it sounding just right, and couldn't decide how I wanted this chapter to be structured. I ended up re-doing how the last few chapters fit together entirely haha. Nothing that was originally gonna be in this chapter even made it in. We're super close to the end, only two chapters left! I know the little counter says there's only going to be eight but I decided to write the epilogue after all, so there will be an extra one. :) Stick around for the point of no return~


	8. The Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to write this chapter since the beginning you guys. You have no idea how excited I am right now.

Even through the leather of his glove, Krista could feel the intense heat of the Count’s skin. It nearly burned under her palm as he drew her upward, gaze never leaving hers. She expected him to jerk her forward, pull her close by force, but he only watched her, letting her fingers linger in his before letting them slip out of his grasp. There was a long beat of silence and Krista found herself unable to look away from his intense stare, pinned by it. She clenched her jaw against the feeling of being prey caught under the eyes of a hunter. Nevertheless, her heart fluttered in her chest like a nervous bird, fear leaking ice into her veins.

At last, the Count broke his gaze, turning from her. Krista fought the urge to gasp for air, realizing belatedly that she’d been holding her breath. For the first time she managed to get a look around, and noticed with a start that they were in the square they’d danced in once before. There were high green hedges surrounding them on all sides, no sign of the path she’d run in and fallen through. _No escape,_ her mind supplied unhelpfully. She turned her eyes back to the Count, who had paced away a few steps to a small wooden table, where a bottle of wine and two glasses sat. He took a moment to pour two glasses as she finished her perusal, noticing the one other item in the clearing, not far from where she stood. The mirror from her room, reflecting her mussed appearance back at her. How it stood there, with no support beneath or behind it, she could not say, but she had a grim suspicion of why it was there. She visibly jumped when the Count’s reflection strode into view. She had not noticed him walking up to her, a glass in each hand, an arrogant grin stretching his lips. He offered a glass out to her wordlessly, and she took it with shaking fingers. His hand did not touch hers, and she noticed his glove had been removed. A glance to the table showed it lying there, discarded.

She took a larger than necessary gulp of wine, trying to calm her nerves.

A throaty chuckle drew Krista’s gaze back to the Count’s, and she reminded herself to breathe when she was caught in his stare once more. “There was no need to run from the dogs, you know,” he said, amused. His golden arm made a sweeping gesture beside her form, and she felt the tendrils of her hair settle back into place, watched a tear in the hem of her dress repair itself, even felt the sweat on her skin cool and disappear. Like no time had passed since she’d first slipped into the gown. She bit back the instinctive urge to thank him, then wondered if perhaps she should have anyway when the moment passed.

“...It’s rather difficult not to run when there’s a beast nipping at your heels,” she finally replied when the silence drew too long.

His grin widened. “Even if you know the beast enjoys the chase?”

Krista’s spine stiffened, and she clenched her jaw, instincts within her telling her to fight back, to flee, to do anything but play his game. But she had a part to play, a role to take on, and to do that she must pretend she was only testing his patience, that she _wanted_ him to pursue her as he had. That they both knew this was the night she would finally allow herself to be caught.

And try as she might, she couldn’t quell the small voice within her, the whisper saying that she wouldn’t have to pretend at all.

She released a low breath and forced her shoulders to relax, and let a coy smile tug at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps especially then...” A pause. “...Master.”

The Count’s grin turned absolutely feral, and Krista could feel his magic skimming at the edges of her own, could sense it’s violent desire to merge with her, to overtake her as it had that first night. But something held him back, leaving her feeling as though she was cornered by a lion, prowling around her. Waiting. For what, she didn’t know.

“As much as I have enjoyed our hunt, little butterfly,” he paused to take a sip of wine. “I’m afraid the game draws near to its end.” Krista lifted a curious brow at him, prompting him to continue. “You’ve at last made your choice pet, and it is time to _succumb.”_

The word shot a bolt of unwanted heat through her stomach, and Krista couldn’t help dropping her gaze. Her breath grew short when the Count’s ungloved hand drew near to her chin, hovering just beyond her skin. She could feel the heat radiating off of him. Without touching her, he prompted her to lift her head, returning her eyes to his. His fingers pulled away and she could have gasped from the loss of heat. “No turning from me,” he said softly, echoing his words from when he’d led her down the strange halls. “You have questions, I know,” he purred, delighting in his knowledge of her weakness. Her damnable curiosity was the reason any of this was even happening. “I once promised you power, secrets of magic you’ve never dared dream of.” As he spoke, he circled her, coming to a pause behind her. “And there is still yet, so much _more_ to teach you, knowledge that no mortal has ever possessed.” His low voice crooned in her ear - when had he gotten so close? - and Krista’s eyes fluttered closed as his warm breath caressed her throat. “There is so very much we could learn together…” A gasp escaped her as his fingers began trailing up her arms from the wrists, the dual sensations from his smooth fingers and pointed claws raising goosebumps. A fine tremble took her as the fingers of his good hand reached her collarbone, while his other slid to her waist, grasping firmly at her. “You need only give in to your desire…” Her eyes blinked open once more as his hand moved up to her throat, the other moving towards her hip. “To _me.”_

A memory struck her then, of the first night he had taken her, when his fingers had closed around her throat and she had felt the overwhelming sensation of his magic, the very essence of him, attempting to flood her own mind. Panic seized her, and she spun away from him, backing away a few frightened steps, her own hand raising to her throat as though to guard it. He appeared unperturbed, only folding his arms and gazing at her with an amused and somewhat exasperated expression, as though she were a misbehaving child. Krista moistened her lips and did her best to calm her breath, though her thudding heart was a lost cause. Abruptly she noticed the wine in her glass had not spilled, but took a moment to break his gaze and tread to the table to set it down anyway. Slowly, she turned back to face him.

“Words cannot express the thoughts that have plagued me since that night,” she at last said, raising her eyes to his. “I have been unable to forget the magic you showed me.” Growing bolder, she began a steady pace towards him, exaggerating the slow sway of her hips. Unconsciously, a hand rose to trace the line of her bodice. “The way it made me feel...” She came to a stop before him, gazing at him from under her lashes, scarcely an inch separating them. “...The way _you_ made me feel.”

The Count took a sip of his wine, as though unaffected, but Krista saw the way his eyes tracked her, the flush that had risen to his cheeks, the increased rate of his breath. She could still feel his magic creeping at the edges of her senses, shivery and excited, and felt a swell of power rise within herself. Rather than magic though, it was a different kind of power altogether. Instead of opening her mind to him, for the first time she pushed back with her magic, and was surprised to feel him pull away, to see his eyes widen in shock. And to then immediately hood with desire. 

A smile began to pull at her lips.

She raised a hand as though she were planning to touch him, saw his eyes dart down to watch the movement...and instead plucked the wine glass from his fingers and circled around him now, making her way back to the table to set it beside hers.

“I see my pet has grown fangs,” he crooned in her ear, directly behind her. Thinking to frighten her, she imagined, as though she was the same defenseless, quiet girl she had been before this all began.

But she was quite done being frightened, and she was far from defenseless.

She spun to face him, unsurprised to find him leering at her, and pressed her palm to his clothed chest. Not pushing him away, but not allowing him any closer. He raised a brow in curiosity, but didn’t move her hand or press forward.

“I do have a question for you, master,” she purred, tilting her head slightly. “What exactly is it you intend to do with me?” She paused for a moment, meeting his gaze once more. “Now that you have me.”

A beat passed.

“There is a bridge to be crossed,” he at last said softly into the air between them. “A final threshold to pass. And for that…” his good hand rose to her chin, and he touched her for the first time that night, skin to skin, fingers crooked beneath her jaw and thumb brushing her lower lip. “I need you.”

“Me?” she intoned quietly. “To do what?”

“You have a choice to make, little butterfly,” he crooned. “To stay in the blinding, garish light of your own world…” A gentle tug at her chin drew her closer. “...Or step into the darkness with me.” His lips were close enough to nearly brush her own with every whispered word, and Krista trembled against the urge to press closer, to end the dance between them.

Instead, she at last pressed him backward with the palm of her hand, stepping forward into his space.

“Then again,” he continued on a grin. “Perhaps you’ve already made your choice.” His arm abruptly snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Instinctively, her hand skated across his collarbone and shoulder, down his arm, until it rested in his clawed fingers. The music from the masquerade beyond was just barely loud enough to reach her ears, and wordlessly, they began to step in time.

“Perhaps I have…” Krista breathed. She could not tear her eyes from his own, feeling as though they were seeing straight through to her _soul,_ to the dark, secret places of herself she tried to pretend weren’t there. And rather than being rejected in disturbed fear, she felt _desired._

Was it wrong to want such a thing?

Did she even care?

The hand held in his golden claws was gripped tightly, and all at once he spun her, till her back was to his chest, and the fingers of his good hand were splayed on her belly, the heat soaking through the fabric of her corset and dress. Her breath caught as she realized they faced the mirror, their joined reflection staring back. When had they drawn so close to the looking glass? Her blood raced as want unfurled within her, like a flower blooming under the light of the sun.

“There is but one final bridge to be crossed, Krista,” he hushed into her ear, and a whimper escaped her, despite her best efforts. “All you have to do is say _yes.”_

His hand traced it’s way up her side, ghosting along the edge of her breast, coming up to caress the column of her throat. Unconsciously, her arm rose to echo the first night he had come to her. As though from a great distance, separated from herself, Krista watched her fingers shakily reach up to trace the edge of his mask, watched the feral grin on his face grow, watched the flush spread over her cheeks, throat and chest. 

The magic that he had kept tightly leashed at last began it’s assault on her, pressing, pushing, searching for a way past her defenses. The heat of skin burned, her breath grew short, her vision blurred, and through it all the fingers on her throat began to close. She could feel his breath on her lips now, and found herself forgetting why she was supposed to be resisting. Her own magic _ached_ to let him in, to press back, to merge with him, no longer being overtaken but joining, the power within them both calling to each other. He was fire, raging and burning…and she wanted to be _consumed._

Her mind raced, growing panicked as her own skin grew warm. As his lips brushed her jaw. As she felt the last remnants of her resistance falling away. And did the only thing she could think that would break the spell she’d fallen into.

Her fingers slipped underneath the bone white edge of his mask, and ripped it from his face.

* * *

She expected anger.

She expected a sense of betrayal, of the rage he was known widely for to be suddenly unleashed upon her.

She had _not_ expected for his magic to recede from her all at once, almost coldly, for him to release her so abruptly that she very nearly fell to her knees, breathless. She spun in time to see the end of his transformation, of his skin and fur seeming to ripple as it settled into place. He loomed over her, scarlet eyes once again locked on hers. But he did not yell, or scream, or curse her name.

The silence stretched between them as she searched his twisted face, fear still trickling through her veins, dreading what her punishment would be.

“Very well, pet.” He said at last. “If you are so insistent on seeing the truth, abhorrent though it may be, rather than the beautiful lie I was _happy_ to give you...so be it.” He advanced on her, and in spite of herself Krista began backing away from him, step by step. “I was going to let you say yes yourself - constructed this whole elaborate chase just for you. But if I must force you to make the choice…” He stopped abruptly, and Krista realized she must be mere inches from the mirror at her back. “Then I will.”

“Why do you need me to say yes?” she asked breathlessly, the realization that he had been angling to get her to agree to something all night dawning on her. “What am I supposed to be agreeing to?”

“To crossing over from the mortal world,” he said. “And joining me in this one. Permanently.”

The words hung between them for a moment, and only when her lungs began to ache did Krista realize she had stopped breathing.

“Cross over to…” she began, before shaking her head in disbelief. “But wouldn’t I have to...To die?”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

Steeling herself against the frightened tremor that was threatening to rack her frame, Krista tightened her jaw and shook her head once more, firmly. “No. You need me to say yes for it to work? I won’t.”

A wide grin split the Count’s furred face, looking closer to a baring of teeth than anything. “You are a stubborn thing,” he said, sounding amused. “Luckily you gave me exactly what I needed to... _persuade_ you, should you find yourself feeling rebellious.”

He held out a clawed palm, and for a moment Krista thought he was asking for her to give him her hand, when red smoke began to swirl around it. When it dissipated, and revealed what now lay in his grasp, she felt her blood go cold and her stomach drop.

It was Asra’s gold choker.

Unthinkingly, one hand rose to her bared throat, despite not having worn the choker for more than a day. She hadn’t even noticed it had gone missing after their altercation on the balcony.

“I see you recognize the symbol of your betrayal,” the Count said, disdain dripping from his voice. “How fitting it should be what I use to ensure your complacency.”

Unable to tear her eyes from the metal in his palm, Krista swallowed hard. “What...what are you going to do to him?”

“Nothing,” he responded almost pleasantly. “Should you do as I say.” The feral grin grew again. “Otherwise...” His claws began to close around the choker.

“No!” Krista cried out, reaching out to his hand for a moment, which he pulled out of reach. His fingers stilled, not quite touching the choker. Krista lowered her head, knowing she was defeated. “Please…” she said in a small voice. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it pet,” he purred to her, red smoke briefly swirling around his palm again to vanish the choker out of sight. “I trust you will listen to reason now?”

She took a steadying breath, that sadly did little to calm her nerves, and looked up to meet his triumphant gaze. “I will,” she said, resigned. “You’ve won.”

“I do so _love_ to hear that, little butterfly.” he chuckled, stretching his palm out once more, encouraging her to take it this time. “Join me then, pet, and neither of us will ever have to be alone again.” He shifted as he spoke, till they were standing side by side before the mirror.

Krista clenched her jaw for a moment, every instinct within her screaming to resist, to fight back to say no...but her thoughts turned to Asra, to the kind smile he always had for her, the cool feel of his skin against her own, the way his magic was as gentle and strong as he was. She could not bear to see him hurt.

“Yes,” she breathed, hating herself and him for saying it.

“Good,” he grinned, and she was pulled through the mirror once more.

* * *

Rather than before, when her vision had swirled and she had eventually come to see the halls as opulent and bright, gilded with various regal paintings of the Count, she saw it for what it truly was. The paint was old and chipped, the walls cracked, the floor covered in dust. Each of the paintings had the eyes torn out of them with what looked like claws, and there were more deep grooves in the walls as well.

Krista could no longer hold back the frightened tears that had been bubbling within her, sniffling behind him as she was pulled along by the wrist, her shoulder aching from the force of it. Her eyes landed upon a ruined painting as they passed and she found her mind pulled unwillingly into a memory -

* * *

_Elymas is **gone,** and he is utterly alone now. The faces that he passes every day are filled with varied mixtures of disgust, fear and pity, and he cannot stand it. He is their ruler, their sovereign, and he will not be seen as some pitiable, weak thing. He will fall to this infernal disease, and if he must take extreme measures to do so, then so be it._

_They may be gone, but Elymas had left behind a myraid of spellbooks and theories, many of which were recent attempts at fighting this damnable curse. He was no scholar of magic himself, but he’d learned more in these past months since he’d been infected then he’d realized, and found a half-completed theory for a ritual scribbled down by a frantic hand. Many lines had been crossed out and the Count guessed they had deemed it too dangerous, too uncertain...but he was out of options._

* * *

Krista gasped for breath as she was briefly torn from the memories assaulting her, stumbling in her attempts to keep up. A sob escaped her gritted teeth as his claws pierced the soft flesh of her arm, and she turned her head away, was caught by the once bold colors of another painting and was pulled under once more -

* * *

_Failed experiment after failed experiment, infected citizens dying for his cause until he could hardly stand, could wait no longer. None of them were strong enough to make the merge happen, none of them had the connection to temptation and darkness that he did. It would work for him, it **had** to. He was stronger than death._

_He shook the whole way through the ritual, limbs thin and frail. He was barely more than skin and bone at this point, unable to keep food or drink down, and he knew this was the last night he had. Either he merged now, or he was lost forever. The incantation spilled clumsily from his lips, stuttered but accurate, and as he placed the tarot card with the goat’s face grinning at him face up in the intricate circle he’d painted on the ground; he could hear the creature whispering to him. Their spirits were close, and he could actually feel the magic pressing at the border between their worlds, clawing to get to him, a willing vessel._

_Sparks lit the ground at his feet, before flame began to make it’s way up his legs, torso. The heat was **agony,** scorching and awful, he could feel the flesh melting and peeling away from his bones. The passing of his mortal body was necessary, before he could merge with the Devil and possess a new one, crafted from magic, possible only through his connection to the elusive  
Arcana. None before had ever successfully made the attempt, none had had the drive he did, the power, the -_

_All at once, everything began to go wrong. The magic turned, no longer syncing with his failing heartbeat, but instead twisted and jarring. Underway as the ritual was however, there was no way to stop, and the Count felt his spirit being pulled towards the Devil’s magic anyway, as unwilling as he was, knowing something terrible was coming, that they had failed. Fear seized him as they were forced together, the body they had constructed shifting and twisting into something wrong and inhuman. As he at last settled into the monstrous form, on the wrong side of the mortal plane, the magic that had been roiling in the room burst outward, strong enough to roll out past the palace, through the town, every magician near enough feeling the unnatural presence like a chill wind._

_And just before the the magic dissipated, the last fading trails of it reached the mind of a young witch, picking up tarot cards for the first time. Learning their names, just as they learned hers from the brush along her spirit the burst of magic had afforded them._

_“Krista…” the Count mumbled once before passing out, falling into the last flickering flames on the ground…_

* * *

The memory broke when Krista stumbled, falling to her knees briefly as her bruised wrist slipped from the Count’s grasp. He turned with a snarl and snatched it once more, dragging her to her feet without a care for her tears or weak protests. The claws of his prosthetic scratched her skin, and she realized with a start that he was shifting between his human and inhuman forms wildly, his body twisting in a way that was grating on her eyes. She closed them to block out the sight of it, unsettling to her mind as it was, and felt herself pulled into another memory -

* * *

_The first few months were the worst. People walking right by him, right **through** him without noticing, no one hearing his screams, his cries, going entirely unnoticed. It all seemed to happen so quickly - the few expert magicians left in the palace determined he had died in a desperate attempt to stave off his sickness, a funeral was held...and everyone moved on. Life continued, and he was left behind. Alone, screaming into a void with nothing but the occasional rumor of a phantom roaming the halls to give him hope that maybe there was a chance he could be found. But time passed and eventually it seemed like nothing more than a cruel joke. Flickers of hope only to be dashed away when the rumors were waved off as superstition. He finally stopped trying to reach anyone._

_Instead, another reached out for him._

_He had formed a connection with a magician the day he’d undergone the ritual - unintentional, but it had happened all the same. It was some time before she picked up the card gain, but he felt it the moment she did. Felt her curious and nervous mind waiting to see if he would say her name again, say anything at all. Surprised as he was at the first contact he’d had in so long, he said nothing, and felt her disappointment just before the connection slithered away, as she presumably put the card away. But she was a magician, and would no doubt try again. Someday. She was his only gate to the mortal realm, the only one he had any chance of having any lasting connection to again, and he could not - **would not** \- let the chance slip by him again._

_He would not be alone._

_With that, he began to plan._

* * *

Another gasp escaped Krista when she was forcibly shoved into a room - the Count’s room she realized, the same room she’d been led to just days earlier. _It feels like so much longer,_ she thought for a moment.

She had only that moment, as the next had the Count spinning her and shoving her back against a bedpost, pinned by his furred arm. He was fully in the inhuman form he was cursed with now, and the blood red of his eyes bored into her own, pinning her just as surely with his gaze.

And abruptly, she was flooded with _rage._ That she had to go through this, that he had threatened Asra, that he had plotted and manipulated her for years into becoming a magician who could cross realms to get to him. She recognized all of it now, heard the various messages the Devil - _Lucio_ \- had given her over the years, guised as advice from the Arcana, when in truth it was all a ploy. For the better part of her life, his voice had been strongest in her mind, subtly nudging her in the direction he wished, guiding her until she was more connected to the Arcana and the cards than any tarot reader she had ever heard of, until her connection to the Devil was so acute it frightened her. She remembered how his voice had become clearer the closer she came to the palace, the sudden increase of his attention when the Countess had announced her decision to choose a new Court Magician.

All of it had been to get her here.

“So what now?” she said flatly, openly glaring into his twisted features. What more had she to lose? “Will you cut me down right here? Or must I satisfy your lust for both flesh and blood?”

He grinned ferally, all the answer she needed.

“As I said my dear,” he growled. “Neither of us will ever be alone again.” He paused, and released her from his hold. “In time, you will learn to accept your fate. You saw in the hall, yes? How destiny brought us together, connected us against all odds? We were always meant to be, Krista.”

“No,” Krista protested, despite knowing he wouldn’t listen. “Don’t you see? This was _never_ supposed to happen. This was - was an accident, nothing more! A cruel twist of fate that never should have been.”

A beat passed as they stared one another down, a silent battle of wills.

Then, in a voice much softer than she had expected, he continued. “In another time, another life, our love would not have been poisoned by this accursed form I must now possess.”

Her chin trembled, frustrated tears forming once again as she shook her head. “The only thing holding you to this shape is yourself. Don’t you see that?”

He snarled at her, jaw opening as if to retort, before going suddenly still. A creak had sounded, quiet, but cutting through the roiling tension in the room like a knife. A glance over the Count’s shoulder to the painting on the wall which had just swung slowly open had her eyes widening, fear leaking ice through her limbs.

“Well,” Lucio said in a falsely pleasant tone. “It appears we have a guest!”

“Asra!” Krista cried in alarm as the Count spun to face the new arrival, standing between the two lovers.

“Krista!” Asra paused mid-step, having instinctively begun to rush toward her. He flicked his gaze over the Count’s egregious appearance for a moment. “Let her go!”

“Let her go?” Lucio echoed with a laugh. “Dear boy, she is here of her own free will!” He glanced back at Krista with his smug grin, and she couldn’t help looking away in shame.

“Being backed into a corner isn’t agreeing,” Asra snapped, knowing she would never do such a thing otherwise. “Free her, I beg you!”

“Asra, it’s no use…” Krista choked around a sob, the Count only laughing at her love’s plea.

His eyes were panicked now, glossed over with tears, fear naked on his face. “Just...just let me see her, please!”

Lucio paused, considering, then stepped to the side with a wave of his clawed hand. “If you must, I suppose. I am not heartless.”

Asra rushed forward at once, taking Krista’s hand one of his and cupping her jaw with the other.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she stuttered softly through tears as he looked her over, already shaking his head at her apologies. “I had to, he was going to...Asra you have to _leave -_ ”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he immediately protested, tipping her chin up to look at him, smiling at her in spite of it all. “We’ll find a way, I know we will…”

She sniffled, opening her mouth to reply, when a flash of red from across the room caught her eye.

_Smoke._

“No - !”

Krista dug her fingers into Asra’s shirt as his choker materialized in the Count’s hand, but with a wave of his arm the magician was flung across the room and out of her grasp, pinned against the painting he had entered the room through moments before. Asra’s fingers flew to his throat as though trying to dislodge a hand, gasping for breath. The Count raised his arm, Asra’s choker glowing now between his claws, and his body slowly lifted, sliding up the wall until his feet dangled in the air.

“Stop, stop!” Krista begged, falling to her knees in fear and anguish. “Please, let him go!” 

Lucio ignored her, stepping up to Asra instead, whose fingers still grasping at his own neck were glowing with magic, likely the only thing keeping him from choking. “You have been a thorn in my side since the day you arrived,” the Count hissed, disdain dripping from his voice. “And for your punishment, I will make you watch as she agrees to be mine.” A beat. “Even if only to save your pathetic life.”

He whipped around to face her then, eyes wild and frenzied. “So what will it be, pet?” he demanded. “Cross over the other side, and join me? Or,” his claws curled slightly tighter around the gold choker, and Asra sucked in a pained breath. “Have your freedom, and watch him die?” His grin widened. “Say you love me, and I will give you everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Krista, don’t - !” The Count’s claws curled again, cutting Asra off with grimace.

Her limbs shook, jaw clenched as she locked eyes with the monster before her. A monster she’d once called Master. _Friend._

“Love?” she spat. “And you said you wanted to give me pretty lies.” She let loose a slow breath. “Love is the furthest thing from my heart for you now.”

The Count’s jaw twitched, grin turning to a snarl. “I ask so little of you - ”

“I gave you _everything - "_

“We could have so much more - "

“I’ve only ever wanted freedom - "

“Why condemn us both to a life alone - "

“I was _never_ alone!” she cried at last. “And neither were you.”

The Count went silent at last, fingers loosening somewhat on the choker, Asra taking the opportunity to gasp in a few full breaths.

Krista remembered what Elymas had shown her, how the Count had clearly held them in high regard, but never let them get close, never once allowed himself to tell them how he felt. Remembered the stories of how he’d always been circled by a gaggle of admirers, had a string of lovers, but never called a single one friend. “You cannot push everyone away and then blame them for your solitude. And you cannot beat the world into submission.”

He was silent for a few long moments before his gaze hardened. He stepped close and bent to her level. “This is your last chance, little butterfly,” he said through clenched teeth, then rose to his full measure above her again. “Make your choice.”

Another tear slipped down Krista’s cheek as they stared one another down. She opened her mouth to give him the lie he wanted - 

And realized he was shaking.

A fine tremor had taken up the Count’s ghastly form, so slight she might not have noticed, were her attention not so acutely focused on him. She met his eyes once more, realizing now the hardening of his gaze was a farce, a mask to hide...fear.

Of what? Her? Her mind spun wildly for a moment, wondering how he could possibly be afraid in this moment, right before his victory, when there was no possible way for him to lose now. Her thoughts returned to the memories Elymas had shown her once again. The rage on the Count’s face when Elymas had taken ill, his fury at losing them. Then to the way he had yelled and roared in ever increasing panic at all who passed him by after the ritual, not a soul hearing him.

_Neither of us will ever be alone again._

That was it then. He was so afraid of being alone, so certain it was his fate to be so, he honestly thought she would let Asra die, if only to return him to his torment. Whether he thought she was that cruel or that strong, she couldn’t say. She knew only that did not see this as the final moments before his victory, but the last time he would ever speak to anyone again. And like anyone cornered creature, he was lashing out in terror.

Slowly, Krista rose to her feet, watching him track her with his eyes, confusion scattering clearly over his twisted face, even inhuman as it was. She walked to him slowly, as one might approach a wounded animal, and let her palm rest gently on his furred jaw. A long moment passed as they gazed at one another. Despite his strange form, Krista felt like she was truly seeing him for the first time.

“How long have you been alone?” she at last asked softly.

His mouth opened as if to reply, but no sound came out. He only stared into her eyes, his own wide and uncertain.

Taking a breath for courage, Krista rose up on her toes, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his deformed mouth.

For a moment, there was nothing but the palpable feeling of his shock, of his body stiffening beneath her touch. Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder, unrelenting. She felt him twist then, shifting in a way she couldn’t quite describe, and felt a shaky arm come to rest on her waist. A very _human_ arm. She pulled away in surprise, breathing heavily, and met his grey eyes, fully human, the mask mystically in place once more. Somehow knowing what would happen, Krista shakily reached up and gently tugged it from his face. His eyes widened further when his human shape remained, despite the lack of his crafted mask. Krista surged forward once more, pressing her mouth firmly to his, the most chaste kiss they’d ever shared, while also by far the most intense. He did not return her gesture, the tremor that had overtaken him before now a full body shake that she could feel under her fingers.

At last she released him, both of them stumbling backward a step. He lifted his fingers to touch the skin of his face, fingers brushing his lips as he watched her in awe, the only sound in the room their labored breaths. At last he turned from the both of them, stepping slowly to the desk at the side of the room, bowing his head. He lifted his prosthetic, looking at the choker that rested in his gold claws. After a long moment he tipped his hand, letting it fall to the ground.

At the same moment Asra fell, landing on his knees, one hand still feeling at this throat as Krista rushed to his side, embracing him. He reached up to cradle the back of her head, holding her tightly to him.

“Go,” the Count said, drawing their gaze but still facing away from them. “And destroy the gate behind you.”

Krista’s brow furrowed. “But - ”

 _“Leave,”_ he snapped. “Before I change my mind.”

Krista met Asra’s eyes for a moment, and they rose to their feet together, striding over to the painting. He took a moment to open it with a small flare of magic, letting it swing open with another creak to reveal a stairway leading upward into the palace. Joining hands, they began to ascend, when Krista paused, glancing down.

She was still holding the mask.

She looked up to meet Asra’s gaze again, words not needed between them. He only nodded at her, releasing her hand and going up a few more steps as she turned back.

The Count was still facing the desk, both hands resting on the edge, head still bowed. Sensing Krista’s presence as she re-entered the room, he spun to see her, confusing skittering along his features. She closed the distance between them and held out the mask, letting him slowly take it from her. He ran his fingers over the the bone like material for a moment, pensive, before lifting his eyes to meet hers.

“Krista…” he said softly. Not a temptation or a an attempt to lure her, but a wistful sigh of her name.

A tear slipped down her cheek as his hand rose to cup her jaw, thumb brushing it away. Slowly, fear still in his gaze, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Krista pressed gently upward to meet him, and felt her mind pulled one final time into a vision.

But rather than a memory of the past, she saw a life that never was.

* * *

_Walking into the palace young and eager, excitement fluttering in her heart to know she would be trained as the next Court Magician, taken on as an apprentice, someday to be and advisor of all things arcane to the Count and Countess -_

_Meeting him for the first time, a charming kiss to her knuckles, a wry purse of her lips as she pushes down the butterflies in her stomach, well aware of the rumors of what a flirt he is -_

_Being pursued throughout her training, unintentionally drawing his attention by resisting his attempts to seduce her, conversations that began as little more than playful teasing slowly turning to hours-long discussions, finding herself drawn closer to a man more complicated than most realized -_

_Years passing, affection growing, when they at last come together it doesn’t feel like giving in but finally accepting what they’ve both known all along, finally allowing themselves to love -_

* * *

He pulled away first, and let her slip from his grasp. A shaky smile graced his face, and her heart _ached_ for a love she’d never know.

When she turned away the tears began to flow freely once more, and she jumps when Asra took her hand, not realizing she’d come to the staircase. He pulled her gently to his side as they ascended, the painting swinging shut behind them. Krista took shaky breaths, trying to stem the tide of tears, and took comfort in Asra’s hand stroking her hair, gently whispering to her.

At last the reached the landing, another painting serving as the final door. Nadia was nowhere to be found. Stepping into what was once the Count’s bedroom, Krista lifted her eyes to the window across the way, seeing the horizon taking a light blue tinge.

“Dawn,” Asra said softly into the quiet.

The door burst open then, the Countess rushing in, Portia on her heels. Nadia stopped upon noticing their presence, Portia bumping into her back behind her at the sudden halt.

“Asra, Krista,” she said breathlessly, as though she’d run the whole way there. “Morning was coming, I thought…” she stopped and shook her head dismissively, turning her attention fully to Krista. “Are you alright?”

She sniffled once, but nodded. “Yes, I...I will be.” She looked up to meet Asra’s eyes. “It’s over now.”

* * *

The Count gazed at the mask in his hand as the painting swung shut behind Krista and  
Asra, a wry smile tugging at his mouth at the memories it brought forth. Now a symbol of his own damnation. Forever alone with nothing but the memory of two loves lost attached to it. He turned it over in his palm, about to lift it to his face -

“You don’t have to do that now, you know.”

Lucio snapped his head up to meet the face of the intruder, a woman he’d never seen before standing there. She wore a white dress, and a vividly bright red orange veil, cascading over her neck and shoulders like a mane. Though her features were soft and feminine, there was an unspoken strength in her gaze, and behind the gentle smile she gave him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

She tilted her head at him, not answering. “There is another way. Another place you can go.” She gestured to the mask in his palm. “You don’t need that anymore.”

“Another place?” he asked quizzically. “I don’t understand.”

“You weren’t ready before,” she answered enigmatically. “Though I’m sure you knew that, judging by how desperately you tried to avoid moving on.”

“Moving - oh.” It struck him then. Stuck between worlds as he was, he was not truly alive, but not truly dead either. She was telling him he could pass fully on now. “...Why now? Why haven’t you come to me before?”

“You broke laws both mortal and arcane in your attempts to avoid death,” she replied, and he dropped his gaze. “Your fear was your greatest weakness, and you allowed it to trap you here.” She paused, and her tone gentled, drawing his eyes to her once again. “But it took great strength to let her go free. A trait I admire.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment. “You will never have the death most mortals woud, your actions when you lived as one of them ensured that. There is however, a place where those with strong connections to the Arcana go when they move on. A place where they can at last find peace.” She extended her hand to him. “A place where you may go too, if you like.”

He eyed her hand warily for a long moment. “...What will it be like?”

She smiled again. “That, I’m afraid, is a secret none are allowed to share. If you are truly ready, you must face your fears one final time.”

She went silent then, allowing him to ponder.

The Count’s gaze flicked between the mask in his hand and her proffered arm, fear warring with curiosity. Peace, she’d said. A feeling he’d never known.

In a voice weaker than he’d ever admit to, he asked “Will I be alone?”

She gazed softly at him. “Never again.”

A final glance at the mask, and Lucio placed it on the desk behind him, and placed his hand in hers.

* * *

The gate was burned behind them, as promised, and the Countess took the extra steps to ensure there were no other entrances to the other side in the palace, employing the help other magicians in the city along with Krista and Asra to be certain. Not a one was found, and when Nadia called off the search a few weeks later, Krista gracefully stepped down from her position as Court Magician, with the Countess’ blessing. She and Asra had made the decision to go traveling, see the world as she’d always wanted, and while their friends were sad to see them go, they wished them every happiness (with threats to come after them if they didn’t come back to visit.)

Krista re-opened the shop whenever she returned to Vesuvia, with Asra at her side, leaving at least once a year to see far off places, always happy to return with fresh stories for their friends, who greeted them with open arms every time. They married a few years into their new life, in a small ceremony with those closest to them to witness. Nadia and Portia were wed the following year, with a celebration so grand the entire city spent many days in revelry.

Asra and Krista’s first child was born one one of their mandy adventures across the sea, and their friends took up mantles as aunts and uncles at once, delighted at the addition to their family. They had two more children in the following years, each born in Vesuvia, and their home was filled with love and laughter always, their trips outside the city now family getaways.

Every so often, when the sun went down and Krista had a moment to herself, her gaze would turn to the black sky, thoughts wandering to a time long past, until Asra or one of their children would say her name, and she would turn back with a smile. He never mentioned it, but Asra knew where her thoughts had drifted to, and was only glad he could lift her from her dark memories.

Many years passed this way, until their children grew and made homes of their own, until Krista’s hair grayed and Asra’s eyes grew laugh lines. Until they were no longer able to travel, and lay in their home together, Krista’s body tired and achey from a long life of joy and light.

Asra was sitting beside her on the bed, gaze still full of love after all this time. It never ceased to bring a smile to her face. “You should rest,” he said softly to her, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be along soon enough.” Another gentle kiss to her mouth. “I love you.”

She reached up to squeeze his hand. “I love you too.” She let her eyes slip closed, drifting off, and a smile tugged at her lips once more. “Do you hear that?” she asked softly.

“Hear what?”

Smile still in place, she sighed into the air: “Music.”

* * *

Krista opened her eyes to a world of color and light.

At once she recognized Asra’s gate, a place he’d taken her to many times over the course of their lives, though she didn’t understand why she was there now. She turned in a circle, confused, before walking forward along a trail, unsure of what else to do. She came to a stop however, when the trail was cut off by a river of twinkling violet water. On the other side was Asra…

And herself.

Flabbergasted, she stared at the other Krista, who was giving her much the same look back, Asra glancing between the two of them wildly.

“What...what is this?” she blurted out, met with a shrug from her other self.

“How interesting,” a new voice said, and all three turned to the new party. The Magician stood on smooth stone jutting out of the river, not disturbing the water one bit. His head was tilted quizzically as he looked between the two Kristas, eyes twinkling with fascination.

“What’s going on?” Asra asked.

“I must confess, I have not seen such a thing before,” he replied, seeming amused by the development. “But I may have an explanation.

“When a mortal with a strong kinship to our kind and realms passes on, they can choose to remain here in their afterlife, if they wish. In their personal ‘gate,’ as you call it.” He paused a moment. “As they leave their mortal trappings behind, the magic within their soul will create a place for them, should they not have one already, a place they can call home.” He eyed the Krista standing alone. “Never before have I seen a soul split quite so distinctively. You appear to be a unique case. A creature of both light,” he turned to look at the Krista on Asra’s side of the river, which she now noticed was bathed in a warm golden glow. “And darkness.” He looked back to her, and a glance around showed that her side held far more shadows, the trail behind her leading into a dim forest. “I imagine you were often at war within yourself, in life?”

Krista grimaced and looked down, nodding.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “We all have our battles. Now however, it appears you can explore the side of yourself you felt you had to hide.” He tilted his head once more. “Do you still feel the desire to remain in the realm of light as you once did?”

Krista pondered a moment, searching her own feelings, and found she truly did not. She spared a guilty glance at Asra, watching her curiously, and shook her head.

Without judgement, the Magician turned to the other Krista, hand entwined with her husband’s. “And you? Do you still feel the compulsion to explore the darker sides of the world, of magic?”

Another pause, and the alternate Krista shook her head. “I...can’t say I do.”

“So...what does this mean? I have my own gate?” Krista asked uncertainly.

“That is what it seems,” the Magician replied, then smiled. “Though you may not be as alone as you think you are.”

She huffed irritably. Just _once,_ a solid answer would be nice. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you should explore and find out,” he replied, chuckling at her frustration, and faded out of sight.

The three of them stared at each other across the wide river.

“Is...Is this what you want?” Asra asked, hand still joined with her other self’s.

Krista bit her lip, glancing behind at the forest for a moment. A whole new realm to explore, filled with all the dark secrets she had had to restrain herself from seeking out in life? Her heart thrummed at the chance to finally know all she wanted to. “Yes...I think it is.” She glanced up at her other self. “You really don’t feel the curiosity anymore?”

The other Krista bit her lip and shook her head. “Not really. I definitely still want to know more about magic, but... _that,”_ she gestured to the forest, the very aura of it breathing out danger. “Doesn’t hold the fascination for me that it once did.”

She looked to Asra again, surprised to find that while she still cared for him it was...not the same. “Is this what _you two_ want?”

They glanced to one another, a moment passing, and shared a smile. “Yes,” they said as one.

Last traces of guilt fading away, Krista gave them a smile of her own. “Go on then. You have a realm of your own making to explore.”

“And so do you,” Asra replied, mischief and excitement in his gaze as they turned. Krista watched them go for a few moments, happy despite the strangeness of it all, and at last turned away to her dark forest, heading down the trail.

Luminescent mushrooms and vegetation lit her path and various colors, magic emanating from them and brushing along her senses. She grinned at the feeling, eager to explore it all...but there was something deeper within calling to her, something else she knew she had to see first. The longer she walked, the more the forest changed, so gradually she almost didn’t notice, until she was no longer walking along dirt, but on a marble floor, opulent walls around her. Her smile grew as she recognized the walls of the palace, as she began to hear music drifting to her from somewhere far away. She strolled through the halls confidently, knowing now where the feeling was leading her.

She let her hands drift along banisters as she climbed stairs, grinned at a painting of Mercedes and Melchior that she passed, until at last she came to the room that had once been hers, all those years ago. She passed through the doorway, a dreamy smile on her face as she saw the mirror in the corner, gleaming as though it had never once been touched.

Krista stopped in front of the looking glass, trailing her fingers along the frame for a moment, nostalgia and heartache glossing her eyes over. When at last her fingers brushed the glass, she closed her eyes, beaming as she heard her name, in a voice that sounded like warm honey and silk, both comforting and sensual.

_Krista…_

She pressed her had forward through the mirror, and felt a smooth hand with warm skin grip her fingers from the other side, and pulled her through.

_Welcome home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. AM. SOBBING.  
> Gods I can't believe it's over. I've never written a fic this extensive - and FINISHED it!! I feel like I grew so much writing this, and it was so much fun to interact with you all - I've never gotten fanart or fanfiction (of fanfiction!) for something I've written before and this got both!!! I'm so sad it's over but it was such an awesome ride at the same time.  
> I ended up combining the last chapter and the epilogue rather than separating them. I felt like it flowed better that way. I'm not terribly happy with how the epilogue came out, but I hope you guys like it anyway!  
> I'm definitely not done with Krista and Lucio, so expect more of them...in fact you'll be seeing a fic of them involving some goblin antics here in the near future ;) If you'd like to see any one-shots featuring them (and even Elymas!) let me know, I'd be happy to write more about them!  
> Thank you all for your support along the way! You're all fantastic!!!  
> Happy reading! :)


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